


Flaming Up

by Elveny



Series: Spark of Hope [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Divergence, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Declaration of Love, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Haven, Love, Love Confessions, Magic, Panic Attack, Redcliffe (Dragon Age), Sex, Sexual Tension, Skyhold, Smut, Solavellan, Struggle, Tenderness, Uncertainty, but not as much as to be an AU, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elveny/pseuds/Elveny
Summary: “Ugh, not this again," Cassandra groaned as she put a small kettle with water into the fire. Lyssa looked at her, and one eyebrow went up as she realized the grumpiness was fake. The Seeker actually enjoyed listening to Varric’s stories, it seemed. And judging from Varric’s grin, he knew it.“Relax, Seeker,” he said, “this is a version you haven’t heard yet.”





	1. The Walk

**Author's Note:**

> What to expect from this story:
> 
> I will be following the normal plot of Dragon Age Inquisition. But since you're here, I suppose you already know that plot, so it will play a minimal role at best. I'm not interested in telling a story you already know, but what I want to tell is my Inquisitor's story. Filling in the blanks that are left unexplored in the game. How she reacts, how she feels, how she deals with being put in the most horrible position, how she falls in love with the most interesting and sexy and, unfortunately, most heartbreaking person there is... not that she knows that.
> 
> I am taking huge liberties with the timeline (the romance will definitely be hugely divergent from the canon timeline) and I am extremely careful with travel times, so no "getting cakes in Val Royeaux in the afternoon and be back in Skyhold for supper" ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Kudos and comments are, of course, always welcome.
> 
> Will be updated once or twice weekly :D

Turning the corner, Lyssa hesitated as she saw Solas. He looked up at the Breach, that big, swirling, green vortex in the sky. His sharp, elegant features seemed nearly timeless in the way he stood unmoving, hands clasped behind his back, the green shimmer deepening the shadows and edges of his figure. There was a nearly ethereal beauty to his face, but what made her stop was the look of longing and sadness she could read in his eyes. It was as if he was trying to look beyond the Breach to whatever lay behind the borders of their reality. It was not that she couldn’t understand it, she felt the lure of the hole in the sky as well. But her heart went out for him at the vulnerability and intensity of the feelings she could read in his features. So far, she had seen only glimpses of this version of him in the few days that they knew each other. Small moments of warmth or genuine amusement, of a sudden intensity in his eyes that spoke of more than the reclusive, quiet apostate he normally appeared to be.

She quietly stepped up to him, following his eyes. “It is mesmerizing, isn’t it?” she asked softly. He blinked, barely suppressing the surprise at her sudden appearance, and quickly schooled his face into his usual calm and detached mask.

Lyssa gave him a small smile. “My apologies,” she said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Solas cleared his throat as if to overplay his embarrassment at having been caught by surprise and turned towards her. “Herald,” he said by way of greeting and Lyssa flinched.

“Please don’t call me that. Not unless you honestly believe in it,” she pleaded, and he couldn’t hide a small smile at that.

“Very well. What would you like me to call you?” he asked.

Lyssa shook her head at him. “My name will be fine, thank you.” Her eyes went back to the Breach, a thoughtful expression crossing her features as she tilted her head. “I avoid looking too long at it,” she mused after a moment, “for it makes my mind wander to things I cannot change. It makes you forget where you are if you look too long into it. As if that vortex draws you in more and more…” The green swirl seemed to grow as she stared at it, and she quickly blinked and looked back at Solas, shaking off the weird feeling the Breach always caused. He watched her with a curious, thoughtful expression and when he met her eyes, straightened slightly.

“Hera- Lyssa,” he corrected himself quickly. “What can I do for you?”

Lyssa smiled slightly at his attempt to change the subject. “I wanted to ask you if you would care to accompany me on a walk.”

Solas cocked his head, clearly surprised at the question, and asked carefully, “Do they allow you to wander outside alone now?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be unaccompanied after all. But yes. Since they decided their Maker sent me instead of accusing me of being a criminal, they have given me more freedom. I suppose it makes no difference. I am surrounded by watchful eyes at all times anyway.”

Solas let his gaze wander, marking the looks they got from passing people, some curious, some reverent, some quickly averting their eyes when they met his. When he looked back at Lyssa, he found her watching him, still waiting for an answer.

“I… There was something I wanted to talk to you about specifically,” she added, “But I would prefer to do it not in earshot of…”

“Other people?” he asked as she trailed off, but she shook her head.

“Humans,” she clarified very quietly. His eyebrows went up at that, but still, he hesitated. When he didn’t answer, Lyssa couldn’t hide the disappointment at the way he so obviously tried to distance himself from her. More than anyone else she had met since she had woken after her unintentional trip into the Fade, he had woken her interest with his quiet, unobtrusive support and offered knowledge. But it looked like it was not a mutual interest. Or maybe he was just taken aback, either because of his bad experience with the Dalish or because of her status. She took a step backward, casting her eyes down. “Oh. I… understand. My apologies. I will leave you alone.”

Lyssa turned to leave, but Solas quickly held up a hand. “Lyssa,” he said, and she paused, looking back at him. “It is I who has to apologize. Your question took me by surprise. That is why I hesitated. I would be honored to accompany you.”

For a moment her eyes darted over his face, but she couldn’t see any sign of deception, and when he offered her a smile, she returned it, turning slightly in invitation. Together, they walked toward the main gate, passing the watchful eyes of the guards. Cassandra perked up from where she trained when she saw them but did not approach them as they went into the small woods surrounding Haven.

 

Lyssa took a deep breath as soon as they were out of sight, pausing for a second to look into the snow-covered treetops swaying in the wind. This was what she missed most: the silence of the woods, the feeling of peace she only found here. While she was no longer treated as a prisoner since she had helped seal the Breach, the reverence she got instead wasn’t much better in terms of being watched. It meant that she was still always under scrutiny and had people seek her out all the time. Even more, the mark and the ability to close the rifts that came with it had put her in the middle of everything the new-founded Inquisition did. She was the focus of the Chantry, of every supporter and every opposer, of tactical decisions and of political plays she barely understood. Too rare were the moments where she could be undisturbed in a quiet, calm place. Solas waited patiently until she continued to walk, not pressing her to talk. She appreciated the space he gave her, his presence unobtrusive, and after another few minutes of silence, she said, “Thank you for joining me.”

He returned her smile. “Of course. I must confess you have made me curious. The topic must be a sensitive one if you cannot discuss it in Haven.”

She shrugged and nodded slightly. “In a way, yes. It is not strictly confidential, but I am not comfortable enough around humans to volunteer any information to them. Not about our people at least.”

“Ah,” Solas said, and the tone of his voice made her look up to him. He met her gaze levelly as he asked, “But you trust me with such information?”

“I do,” she confirmed, and something in his features softened.

“Why?”

The question made her pause, and Lyssa thought for a moment before she answered. “It might be because you saved my life. And you are an elven apostate as well a healer, too, and I know what that is like. But mainly because…” She hesitated for a second, thinking about how to summarize all the little things she had noticed about him. The subtle humor he showed in teasing Varric or Cassandra without malice, the way he offered to help with the injured, the joy he found in sharing knowledge. All of it painted a picture of a thoughtful, warm person that stood in stark contrast to the calm, detached and often cool demeanor he tended to show. He was not unfriendly, but appeared detached and sometimes even prideful. She didn’t blame him, considering their still precarious situation, but the warmth she saw behind this mask was part of why she hoped to find a way to connect with him. He watched her somewhat bemusedly while she scrunched up her nose in thought. Finally, she settled on, “Because you care. You care about what happens to everyone, so much so that you offered your help to people that might just as well have killed you as accepted you.”

For a moment, Solas was silent as he looked at her. “I… thank you.”

“Well, and as I said, it is not strictly confidential,” she amended, and he chuckled.

“Fair enough. So it is about the Dalish?”

Lyssa nodded. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about them, how they attacked you without reason. And if you would like, I could try to explain.”

He inclined his head after a short pause, indicating for her to continue.

“You are not one of the People,” she started quietly but stopped when she saw the little twitch in the corner of his lips. “This amuses you,” she said curiously. “Why?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was trying to decipher what she had just said.

“My apologies,” he finally answered somewhat hesitatingly, “I did not mean to offend.”

“I’m not offended,” Lyssa said, drawing her brows together the tiniest bit. “I was just curious why you would be amused by me saying that you’re not one of the People.”

“I…” he started, then shook his head, smiling slightly. “It is nothing. You are correct. I am not one of your people.”

This time, it was Lyssa who shook her head. “No, that is not what I said. I said you’re not of the People. You are not Dalish. But we are of the same people nonetheless.”

His gaze grew more intense as she spoke. “The Dalish I met felt differently on the subject,” he said carefully, and she nodded.

“Yes, there are clans who would disagree with me, who set themselves apart so far from those not born to them that they actively reject everyone else. They say that elves not born to the Dalish are so far apart from Arlathan that they are lost to the People already. Some wouldn’t even talk to me when the clans meet at the Arlathven. But that is not the Dalish per se.”

Solas furrowed his brow slightly. “Why wouldn’t they talk to you?”

“Well, I was not born to the Dalish either. I grew up in the Denerim alienage and came to the Dalish when I was 15. My clan is one of those who does not shy away from sheltering those in need. And more than that, we are willing to learn from those who offer knowledge. You would have been welcome with us.”

“I see,” came the thoughtful answer and for a few steps, there was nothing but the sound of their feet breaking through the harsh, frozen surface of the snow as they wandered beneath the winter trees. The branches creaked in the wind that carried with it the smell of more snow. After a moment of waiting if Solas would say anything else, Lyssa stopped, turning towards him. He looked down at her in surprise as she laid a hand on his arm, her touch light but warm. “What I am trying to say,” she said, looking at him seriously, “is that I would make right the disservice the other clan has done to you. You say you have walked the Fade, seen what we have been trying to piece together from memories and stories and searching ruins. I would gladly share what knowledge I have and learn what you have seen, hahren.”

He paused at the honorary title and something softened in his features as he indicated his head to her. “Ma serannas, da’len.” When she smiled at the official response, he laid his hand upon hers where it still rested upon his arm, squeezing her fingers and added, “If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask.”

She surprised him with a rare laugh, delight lighting up her whole face and chasing away the haunted, guarded look she usually wore. “Oh, Solas. I am not sure you know what you just did.”

Solas couldn’t help but smile at the open joy that was visible in her features but still, he shook his head in confusion, not quite understanding what she meant. “Why, what…”

Lyssa laughed again. “You just gave me free rein to ask you questions. I am a Keeper. Or, will be a Keeper one day, when I return,” she amended, taking her hand off his arm and starting to walk again, her smile fading as she thought, ‘ _if_ I return.’ Then she collected herself again, looking up at Solas as he kept pace beside her. “In any case, I am one of those who preserve what knowledge we have and add to it whatever we can. In short, I am curious. So you will have to be prepared for a lot of questions. I apologize in advance.”

Solas looked at her for a long moment, and Lyssa was pleasantly surprised to detect genuine delight in his face. In the few days she now knew him, he had mostly been guarded and drawn back. But she could see none of that in his face now, only open joy and warmth and for the first time, she felt a connection between the two of them as he turned towards her.

“Never apologize for the willingness to learn,” he said and gave her an honest and open smile that she returned with delight. It was rare that she met someone who acknowledged or even matched her enthusiasm for learning and knowledge.

“Can I ask you something?” Solas asked as they turned back towards Haven again, and Lyssa nodded. “Of course.”

“You are wearing the vallaslin of Sylaise, are you not?”

She looked at him curiously, but the carefully guarded mask had come back on. For someone not part of the Dalish, he had quite the eye for details. And indeed more knowledge about her culture she had ever seen someone display who was not one of the People. After a moment she confirmed, “I am. Why are you asking?”

“I was wondering why.”

Lyssa blinked. “Why?” she repeated, unsure what he meant.

“Yes. Why her? Why not some other… god?” He was not looking at her as he posed the question, but despite his carefully arranged neutral face, she could see the small, involuntary twitch in his face that showed he was not quite as detached as he wanted to seem. She watched him for a moment, pondering the question, before she answered, “We choose the God we want to honor with our vallaslin ourselves. I chose Sylaise because… well, because she is the protector of the hearth, the healer and wielder of fire. We honor her when we built a home, when we light a fire. She is the one who taught us how to heal with herbs and magic. It is what I found with my clan: a home. It is where I learned to heal. And fire magic, her magic, is the element that comes most naturally to me.” She held out her palm and summoned a small flame, turning it into the blue-white healing light that by now was as second nature to her as her fire, swirling softly before it burst into a thousand little sparks that sank into the snow as she closed her fingers above it. “She stands for peace and protection. By wearing her vallaslin, I honor that.”

Solas nodded, his guarded mask having softened to a thoughtful expression. “I see.” After a small pause, he continued, “Judging from the way you talk about your clan… you must miss them. If I may ask - why are you still here?”

“I do miss them. Very much.” Lyssa looked down at her hands and bit her lip to keep the sudden pain that welled up in her at bay. “But I don’t have much choice, do I? I am the only one who can close the rifts, who can do something to save all of us. And if I didn’t do it voluntarily, they would come for my clan and force me to.”

Solas cocked his head. “You could always disappear. As a Dalish, you must be schooled in the ways of not being seen.”

“I am, but I really couldn’t. And if you knew me better, you wouldn’t have asked.” She smiled wistfully. “Thia, my best friend, calls me dalathin. It means…”

“Little heart,” he translated in a soft voice. “One who cares a lot about others, who feels the plight of others as their own.”

For a long moment, she looked at him. “Yes,” she finally confirmed quietly.

He nodded thoughtfully and another silence fell between them before he took the conversation up again.

“When I cared for you back when you first stumbled out of the Fade, you mumbled a name while you lay unconscious. Nelos. Is that someone from your clan as well?”

Lyssa took a deep breath, shaken by the suddenness of hearing his name. And by someone who hadn’t known him.

Solas looked at her and when he saw her eyes, stopped immediately and put a careful hand on her arm. “I upset you with my question. Ir abelas, Lyssa. Please don’t feel compelled to answer if you don’t want to. I did not mean to cause you pain.”

“I know,” she murmured and gave him a tiny smile. “And it’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting anyone here to talk about him. Nelos was my husband. He was killed by humans in an attack on the clan a few years ago.”

She could hear Solas’ sharply draw in some air at her words and his voice was very soft as he said, “I am sorry. I know how it is to lose loved ones. I should not have asked.”

As she looked up at him, Lyssa could see that he indeed spoke from experience, and her heart eased somewhat at the shared emotion.

“It really is all right, Solas,” she assured him, “I was just surprised. I have buried and mourned him long ago and carry his memory with me.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze, and he seemed relieved not to have caused her grief.

“Ma serannas,” he said earnestly. “For sharing all this with me.”

Lyssa inclined her head with a smile, and they continued their way in silence, turning back out of the woods and onto the path towards Haven. It was not an uncomfortable silence, though. For the first time since her waking, Lyssa felt like she had made a real connection with someone here and started to build true, mutual trust. That alone was worth more than she had thought it would be.

 

When they approached the main gate, Cullen caught sight of them just as he stepped out. Without hesitation, he turned towards them and approached them with quick, decisive steps. Immediately, Lyssa slowed down. She did not notice the curious look Solas gave her as she stopped before Cullen had even reached them, withdrawing into herself as if to make herself invisible.

It was still hard for her not to instinctively lash out at the human who so eerily reminded her of the man who had killed Nelos. Cullen had the same hair and beard stubble, the same height and coloring and even their features were so similar they could be brothers. She kept expecting an attack, even though Cullen hadn’t been anything but polite towards her. Lyssa knew it wasn’t fair towards him and kept her thoughts to herself, but she couldn’t suppress the feeling of instinctive fear he invoked. It was something she was working on.

“Commander,” she greeted him in an effort to be friendly, and he nodded at them both, seemingly not noticing her defensive posture.

“There is something we need to discuss, Herald,” he said. “We got word of a Chantry mother in the Hinterlands who might be able to aid us.”

“Of course,” she nodded and turned to Solas, giving him a tentative smile. “Thank you for the walk.”

He inclined his head at her, returning the smile. “Any time.” He wore a thoughtful expression as he followed Lyssa with his eyes as she walked away with Cullen, always a careful step behind the Commander.

 


	2. Only Dalish After All

It was the fourth day of their journey towards the crossroads where the Revered Mother was helping the refugees, and the first days of Drakonis had brought a welcome bout of warmth. Their small group had stopped for a moment to take off their winter coats when Cassandra realized that Lyssa was nowhere to be seen. A mix of alarm and worry was in her voice as she asked, “Where is she?” 

“Maybe she finally grew a head and left after all," Varric said, grinning when Cassandra glared at him. He sat on a small boulder and took Bianca off before shrugging out of his coat. 

“I promised to stay and I will," Lyssa said as she came out from beneath the trees towards them, the arms full of elfroot. While the plant was one of the few that even grew in winter and the hardier environment around Haven, the first days of sun and the thawing snow made it much more abundant here. The light green of the fresh sprouts was visible beneath every other tree, and Lyssa had been itching to stop and gather the herbs since they had reached the outskirts of the Hinterlands. She had barely stopped to drop her pack before she had ventured between the trees to collect as much as she could. 

“You went to gather… this?” Cassandra sputtered, clearly confused, gesticulating at the plants. Lyssa nodded as she sat down with crossed legs and started to sort through the plants.

“Of course. This is elfroot," she said as if this explained everything.

Cassandra and Varric shared a confused look while Solas just smiled and sat down to give Lyssa a hand.

“But we have a supply back at Haven,” the Seeker frowned.

“Yes, but these are fresh,” Lyssa stated calmly. With quick, practiced gestures, she started to clean the plants’ roots from earth, breaking off bad or crumpled leaves, wiping insects from the plants and putting the best parts aside. Solas mirrored her work, and she smiled at him as she realized that he was equally practiced in this task. 

“Very well,” the Seeker said a bit sourly after a moment and put down her shield with a dull thud, “but just a short break. We still have a long way to cover.”

“Even more reason to keep up our strength. Believe me, Cassandra, it will be worth the wait,” Lyssa assured her quietly when she saw the obvious discontent on the human’s face.

She had been with the Inquisition for a month now, and even though she was by now used to seeing mostly human faces around her, she was still careful around them. And despite her status as Herald, she couldn’t quite get herself to trust the freedom she had been granted. She still expected someone to act out against her as soon as she displeased them. This was even more true for people who were closely connected with the Chantry since Lyssa didn’t claim to be sent by Andraste and even actively denounced the notion. Cassandra was so devout that she not only believed that her Maker sent Lyssa, she had also asked whether Lyssa could worship him as well as the elven Gods. Neither of which had helped her to relax in the Seeker’s vicinity. Despite Cassandra’s assurances that she didn’t see herself as in command and instead deferred to Lyssa’s decisions since she was their Herald and the one who could close the rifts, Lyssa was cautious around her and tried not to anger her - even more since she knew about the Seeker’s inherent abilities. The human noticed her guarded look and cleared her throat uncomfortably, nodding at her.

“I don’t mind a short break, to be honest,” Varric interjected. “We really should go to that Demmek person for some horses. It would speed the whole annoying traveling thing up even if it means getting onto those beasts.”

“Wasn’t his name Dennet?” Lyssa asked.

“Yes. His horses are quite famous around here,” Cassandra responded as she sat down herself, the small gesture a peace offering that Lyssa recognized as such. For a few minutes, there was just idle talk as they all caught their breath and rested their feet. Varric went to fill their waterskins in a nearby brook while Lyssa took some string from her pouch to wrap small bundles of the cleaned plants, working with the plants offering a welcome sense of normality in this crazy new life. Without saying anything, Solas followed suit. The way he deftly bound the stems together told Lyssa that this was indeed a familiar task to him as well. When their eyes met, he smiled slightly, a tiny flicker of the corner of his mouth that betrayed his approval. Somehow this delighted Lyssa more than she had expected, and for a second she allowed herself to watch him even as she worked, trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that had held her attention.

It probably just was the familiarity of the situation, she finally decided. This was something that easily could have happened in the camp back home - someone starting a task and others joining in while sharing stories. A short pang of sadness that was familiar by now came with the thought, but it was short-lived. Despite her still prevalent cautiousness, she had accepted that this would be her life for the foreseeable future: living and traveling, working and fighting with the Inquisition, trying to save as many people as she could with the mark that enabled her to close the rifts in the Veil. The fact that the thought of her clan no longer brought her close to tears as it had in the first few days was a good sign in her eyes. She would be able to make a home here for as long as she needed to. If she had managed to do it back in the midst of a Blight, she could do it again. Maybe she didn’t even have to do it alone, she mused, watching Solas’ long, delicate fingers bind another knot and smiling at Varric as he brought the waterskins back. There was help and companionship, even friendship here as well, Lyssa thought and started humming to herself.

“You seem to be in a good mood," Cassandra remarked after a moment, and when Lyssa realized it had been directed at her, she nodded and shrugged at the same time.

“It’s good to be outside again - outside and in the warmth. I’m not much use permanently holed up in a snow-covered village.” 

“Personally, I could use less warmth at the moment," Varric grumbled and took a big swig of his water.

“Here, give it to me.” Lyssa pointed to his waterskin, and he blinked questioningly but handed it over. But instead of drinking as well, she took two or three leaves of elfroot, ripping them into smaller pieces and put them into the waterskin, giving it a shake before handing it back to Varric.

“Aaaaaalright.” The dwarf eyed the waterskin suspiciously and she gave him an amused smile at his obvious unfamiliarity with what she had done. Then again, Varric had never made a secret of being a city person and not being very fond of traveling. It should not come as a surprise that he was not familiar with the various possibilities to ease it.

“Try it," she invited him with a nod towards the waterskin.

Varric gave her a long look, then he shrugged and took a careful sip. With a thoughtful expression, he moved the water in his mouth before he swallowed.

“Sort of… minty?" he mused, and Lyssa nodded approvingly.

“Yes, close to it. You’ll see. In a few minutes, you’ll be much refreshed and won't mind the warmth half as much.”

“Huh. I know of Deep Mushroom having such effect, but elfroot?” Cassandra said in a skeptical voice as Varric took another gulp of water.

“It is one of the lesser known effects of elfroot. Despite what its name would make you believe, the root is not the only part of the plant that is quite useful,” Solas answered and took his waterskin back with a grateful smile after Lyssa had added some leaves to it as well. She returned the smile and reached towards the Seeker to take Cassandra’s waterskin as well. For a second, her hand hovered in the air, waiting. When Cassandra didn't react, Lyssa let her hand sink, unable to hide the hurt expression that flickered over her face. It seemed like it didn’t matter whether Cassandra saw her as Herald or Maker-sent. Not that she was surprised per se, she had several people refuse to let her help them as they lay wounded, for no other reason than that she was an elf. That someone like Cassandra would do the same, though, was still hurtful, considering they had already fought side by side several times. Even if the attempts at getting to know each other had been halting and a bit awkward, Lyssa hadn’t expected her to be so blunt about it.

“Oh, come on, Seeker. If I can stomach it, you can, too," Varric grumbled after looking at her.

“It’s alright, Varric," Lyssa murmured, standing up and fastening the elfroot bundles at her belt, next to another bundle of nearly-dry embrium. “A lot of people are uncomfortable taking anything from an elf.”

“It’s not that," Cassandra interjected quickly and something in her voice made Lyssa look up. To her surprise, the human returned her look without flinching before she repeated, “It’s not that.”

Lyssa searched for the telltale signs that would tell her that the Seeker was lying, but she found none. Cassandra’s face was open, a clear display of seriousness, and after a second, she nodded. Cassandra seemed relieved, letting out her breath, then the warrior took up her pack and swung her shield onto her back.

“Let’s move on.”

When they made camp that night, Lyssa waited until she could get Cassandra alone before approaching her. She had watched the Seeker for the rest of the day and nearly slapped her forehead as she realized what was going on. She could’ve seen it sooner. Without further ado, she gave Cassandra a small pouch.

“What’s this?" Cassandra asked, but this time more curious than suspicious, opening it and looking at the light brown and green powder within.

“It’ll help with the cramps," Lyssa said. “You needn’t have worried about the elfroot," she added. “It wouldn’t have made it worse.”

Small red dots appeared in Cassandra’s cheeks, and she seemed terribly embarrassed. “How… did you know?”

Lyssa gave her a small smile. “I’m both a healer and a woman, Cassandra. I know the signs.” The Seeker cleared her throat uncomfortably but relaxed a tiny bit, so Lyssa continued, “This is mainly ground willow’s bark, raspberry leaves, and lady’s mantle. Two pinches in hot water per cup should make you comfortable. You can take them up to five times a day if need be. And if you want, I can heat a stone which you can take into your bedroll before you retire.”

The red dots on Cassandra’s cheeks were flaming, and for some moments she was too flustered to speak, but she nodded and gripped the pouch a bit harder.

“I…” she started, then caught herself, took a deep breath and looked Lyssa square in the eye. “Thank you. And I am sorry about earlier. The first day is always the worst, and any stimulant usually makes it even worse.”

Lyssa nodded. “I understand. You could’ve come to me directly - I told you I also trained as a healer, didn’t I?”

This time, Cassandra was openly blushing and definitely uncomfortable.

“I know. But I didn’t think you’d be able to do anything. You are…” She stopped, embarrassed and Lyssa knew immediately what she wanted to say.

She took a deep breath, before ending the sentence, “I’m only Dalish after all, right?”

Cassandra’s face told her that she was dead-on. Lyssa looked to the ground, moving her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn’t really surprised, but the casual degradation of herself and her culture that happened on a near-daily basis would never be something she would get used to. Indignation and a faint anger simmered within her, but before she could say anything else or turn away, Cassandra surprised her by touching her arm.

“I won’t make such a mistake again," the Seeker promised with conviction. For a moment, Lyssa was quiet, but the determination she saw in Cassandra’s face told her that the woman meant it.

“Good,” she answered slowly, relaxing somewhat, and gave her a small smile before she returned to the campfire where Solas was preparing a rabbit Varric had shot this afternoon. The dwarf was nowhere to be seen.

Solas watched her as she settled down next to the fire and stretched her hands and feet towards the fire with a content sigh. The evenings still got cold very early. Lyssa wrapped her shawl closer around herself before she gave him a hand with the evening meal preparations.

“Lady’s mantle?” Solas asked after a while, breaking the surprisingly comfortable silence. Lyssa followed his eyes to Cassandra’s tent into which the Seeker had disappeared to take off her armor and smiled. She shouldn’t be surprised that he had realized Cassandra’s condition, too. He was a healer as well, after all.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “And raspberry leaves and willow’s bark. Why haven’t you said anything to her?"

“The Seeker doesn’t strike me as one of the women trusting a man with these issues,” Solas answered. He didn’t seem offended at all, just stating a fact, and Lyssa nodded.

Solas put the rabbit over the fire as he added, “I hadn’t heard of using raspberry leaves?"

She raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t? Do add it to your recipe. It’s also a perfect preparation for giving birth, only in the last weeks though.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t really read and that itself was something so unusual, she let her hands sink. “What is it?” she asked, but he only smiled before looking back to the rabbit over the fire.

“It’s nothing," he assured her. “Tell me about the other ingredients. Or is it a Dalish secret?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the twinkle in his eyes told her that he was deliberately teasing her.

“Ha ha," Lyssa muttered drily and shook her head before cleaning her hands so that she could open her braids to brush her hair while listing the ingredients of the tea. When Varric reappeared a few minutes later from his tent, the small polishing kit he used daily on Bianca in his hands, they were deep in conversation, exchanging knowledge and ideas. He shook his head as he settled down next to them.

“Good thing Anders isn’t here," he mumbled and started working on his crossbow.

“Why?" she asked, recognizing the name from his tales, and he gave her a deadpan look.

“You wouldn’t stop for days. Two healers at one fire are bad enough, believe me, adding a third would be madness. But I guess I should be thankful that you haven’t started exchanging magical theories.”

“Sorry," Lyssa laughed, exchanging an amused look with Solas. “What would you rather talk about?”

“Anything!” Varric declared, throwing his hands in the air and the two elves chuckled.

“You are the storyteller, Master Tethras, why don’t you gift us one of your stories?” Solas asked, his smile widening as Lyssa’s face lit up and she turned to Varric with an excited gleam in her eyes. She loved hearing stories. Varric leaned back with a smirk as he saw her delight, obviously pleased to find an eager listener.

“Have I told you about how we managed to save the Viscount’s son from slavers?” he asked before he amended, “Well, he wasn’t really the Viscount’s son, but still. Good story.”

Lyssa rebraided her hair into a simple plait. “You haven’t! I’d love to hear it,” she exclaimed, and Varric settled into a more comfortable position, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Ah, Ember, you know how to bait a storyteller, don’t you?”

She blinked with a little, warm laugh. “Ember? Have you finally decided on a nickname for me?”

The dwarf only winked at her. “Well. We were down in Kirkwall’s Alienage, minding our own business when suddenly we heard the desperate cries of a woman,” he started, only to be interrupted by Cassandra who came out of her tent and sat down.

“Ugh, not this again," she groaned as she put a small kettle with water into the fire. Lyssa looked at her, and one eyebrow went up as she realized the grumpiness was fake. The Seeker actually enjoyed listening to Varric’s stories, it seemed. And judging from Varric’s grin, he knew it. 

“Relax, Seeker,” he said, “this is a version you haven’t heard yet.”

 

Varric spun his story while they ate, and their laughter or excited gasps filled the falling darkness. While he moved from story to story, Lyssa prepared the dough for honeyed cakes, baking them in the fire’s embers. When she took them out, night had fallen, and their sweet, rich scent rose towards the dark, star-filled sky. Varric took out a bottle of spirits, and passed it around and as Lyssa gave everyone one of the small, golden cakes, Cassandra smelled it with half-closed eyes. “This smells delicious, Lyssa. What is it?”

“It’s honeycomb cake,” she answered, seeing Solas’ eyes light up as she passed him a piece.

“My favorite!” he exclaimed, causing her to smile.

“It’s my mother’s recipe. I always make it at new moon.” She put a small piece aside, adding a dot of cream she had brought specifically for this occasion and sprinkled some hacked nuts onto it, placing a tiny, beautiful violet flower next to it.

“Why new moon?" Varric asked around a mouthful of cake.

“The legend tells us that new moon is the night of Fen’Harel - the one night a month when it is darkest, and he can roam unseen,” Lyssa explained. “The cake is a peace offering, asking him to leave us in peace and pass by. Legend has it, he has a sweet tooth with a special preference for honeycomb cake, though I’ve heard other versions as well. One story uses caramelized almonds, another cherry pies. I suppose there are nearly as many versions as there are Dalish families.”

Solas let his hands drop and stared at her, and Lyssa blinked confusedly when she met his eyes. He seemed astounded, but the expression was gone as quickly as it had come, and she wasn’t quite sure whether it had actually been there when he looked back down on his cake, his face hidden from her.

“Fen’Harel?” Cassandra asked curiously.

“Dread Wolf, trickster god. The bad one,” Varric said.

Lyssa still looked at Solas, trying to figure out what had just happened, but Varric nudged her and she forced her attention away from Solas.

“Right," she said slowly, then, looking at Varric curiously, “How come you know about him? Most people are not familiar with anything Dalish.”

He shrugged and took another bite. “A very good friend of mine is Dalish as well, and she was rather fond of using his name in curses.”

Lyssa grinned. “Yes, well. There are some colorful expressions going around.”

“Ah, Ember, you have to teach me some of those. Always good to get some color in one’s story, if you take my meaning.” Varric winked at her again. Cassandra rolled her eyes exaggeratedly before she looked at Lyssa.

“But if he is a… bad one, as Varric so eloquently put it, why offer cake? Why not threaten the demon?”

Lyssa shook her head. “He’s no demon. He’s a God, the god of rebellion and betrayal. And he is the last one around after he sealed away the Creators and the Forgotten Ones, still roaming the earth unseen. It is not wise to needlessly antagonize someone who is capable of doing that, don’t you think?”

The Seeker furrowed her brow. “Without meaning to offend, I must confess I don’t understand your beliefs. Why would you worship someone who allegedly put away your benevolent gods?”

Lyssa poked a stick into the last of the flames, making sparks dance towards the sky as she said quietly, “It has something to do with balance, Cassandra. And it's not like your Maker is purely benevolent, is he? After all, in him you worship a god who stood by and watched as his bride was burned alive and then turned his back on all of creation, don’t you?”

For a second, an uncomfortable silence spread. Cassandra looked as if she would start to argue any moment, Varric turned the last of his cake in his hands and Solas looked at Lyssa thoughtfully.

Before an actual argument could break out, Lyssa put the stick down again and took up the cake she had prepared for her offering. “You are not wrong, though, Cassandra, when you wonder about offering cake instead of threats. And in fact, that’s what the wolfsbane is for.” She indicated the small flower. “It is deadly poisonous and says: take the cake and leave in peace or be prepared for a fight if you come closer.”

“Well, I like it," Varric stated, and the line between Cassandra’s brows slowly smoothed over. “Both cake and story, I mean.”

“Thank you,” Lyssa inclined her head before she got up. “Excuse me for a moment.”

When she came back from where she had placed the offering to Fen’Harel at the camp’s edge with a small prayer, Solas was watching her. There was an amused air about him, though not in the condescending way she had come to expect from people confronted with her traditions and beliefs. She looked at him curiously and he smiled, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as if he had made a joke only he understood.

“Can I have another one?" he asked.

“Sure," Lyssa said, still curious, “I made more than usual.”

“I did mention it was my favorite, right?” Solas said, and Lyssa smiled, amused.

“You did. I’ll remember that.”

Their fingers touched as she gave him another piece and his smile changed again, this time growing warmer.

“Thank you," he said simply, but the way his lips curved and his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit told Lyssa that there was more to the situation. She deliberated whether she should ask him about it, but then, Varric started another story and the moment went by unused, and the question forgotten in an evening of tales and companionship.

 


	3. Redcliffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wanted to stick to a weekly schedule but screw this, let's give you more. Life is exhausting atm, so let's share good things! ♥ I really love this chapter, and I hope you do, too. I still remember how devastated and highstrung I was after I played it and then there was... nothing to talk about how your protagonist experienced this horrific experience? Just CUT - Back at Haven. So, here you have it. The aftermath of "In Your Heart Shall Burn".

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The words were barely audible in the ruckus of the big hall of Redcliffe Castle. Everywhere, mages were running around, packing, dragging supplies or talking animatedly. Ferelden soldiers were standing guard, watching their every move. The evening light that fell through the windows bathed everything in a warm, reddish light - a stark contrast to the green, sickly Fade hue that had permeated the world Lyssa remembered from just a few hours back. Or from a year in the future?

A slight headache formed in her temples at the impossible thought.

Lyssa had just entered the hall after an extended talk with King Alistair and Queen Anora of Ferelden, and her head was reeling. She had managed to assure them that the Inquisition was neither trying to take over Redcliffe nor the rest of Ferelden and would take the mages with them to Haven in the next days, but it was also clear that the political situation was still fragile. Never had she been more thankful for Josephine’s teachings.

After Lyssa had brought Bull back to Haven with her last spring, Josephine had taken it as an opportunity to give Lyssa a thorough education concerning politics and diplomacy in the following months whenever she was in Haven - especially since Cassandra and Cullen had both been appalled by her decision. Leliana, on the other hand, had immediately seen the potential in the arrangement, and even Josephine had been quick to work with the situation, apart from teaching Lyssa how to navigate a political field. Despite Lyssa’s thirst for knowledge, the long nights spent with studying lineages, power plays and politics were not something she enjoyed. She had never been in contact with nobility before and much of what Josie considered common knowledge was way beyond her field of experience.

But she had had help.

Iron Bull had the ability to break Josephine’s teachings down to the essentials without being condescending. Varric managed to wrap intrigue and political balance in stories and scenarios she could understand. In the evenings, she could talk about what they had taught her with Solas whose calm and thoughtful advice rounded it so much that, when summer came, Lyssa had been able to handle correspondence and first encounters with enough poise that her representation of the Inquisition was worth calling respectable. While it was clear that she would never be able to navigate a political floor with even a shadow of Josephine’s grace or Leliana’s shrewdness, her intellect, natural warmth and honesty opened doors that otherwise would have stayed closed. And it was what had now enabled her to convince both the King and Queen that she and the Inquisition only wanted to help.

For a second, she marveled at the fact how much at ease she was in the Inquisition by now. In the last nine months, they had traveled the country, closed rifts, met diplomats and answered questions, helped here and there, and fought both rogue templars and mages. Their missions had taken them from the Fallow Mire to the Storm Coast, from Redcliffe’s hinterlands to Val Royeaux, and as the leaves on the trees had started to sprout and grow, turning from a bright to a dark green and then faded to yellow and red, their group of companions had turned into a group of friends. Some were closer to her than others, but there wasn’t a single one Lyssa hadn’t learned to respect. As the days had grown warmer, her feeling of belonging had grown as well and by now, she no longer questioned every move she or others made. When she looked around, she felt at peace. Even more, she felt at home.

Not that it changed much at this moment. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, now that she had a second to breathe. But before she could make another step, Dorian appeared next to her.

“No, you’re not going to be sick. Here, drink this.” A glass was shoved into her hand, filled to the brim with a dark, heady wine. Dorian himself had a glass that was only half-full, but judging from the slight blush in his cheeks it was not his first. Lyssa hesitated, but when the Tevinter raised his eyebrows, she only sighed and took a big gulp. Then another. The alcohol spread warmly through her stomach and into every corner of her body and before she knew it, the glass was empty, leaving a feeling of comfortable dizziness in its wake. Dorian grinned.

“There you go. Come, I’ll take you to the others. There’s more.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the hall into a smaller room in the lower Royal Wing. When they entered arm in arm, Iron Bull and Solas looked up from their conversation. They were seated at a table filled with Ferelden delicacies. Lyssa could see several variations of cheese, bread, bowls with apples, pears and grapes, roasted meat, potatoes and even a pot with hot soup. Her stomach growled, and it was only now that she realized how hungry she was. But an additional seven hours to a day without food, with barely any rest and full of fleeing and fighting through a nightmare come true would make anyone hungry, she supposed. Dorian gave her another squeeze before he took the glass from her and went to refill it.

“There you are, boss. Come and join us!” Bull waved her over to an empty seat between him and Solas, who smiled at her.

“We are rather curious as to what happened,” he said.

“I’d say,” Bull nodded. “One moment you disappear and the next, you’re both stumbling back, covered in blood and gore. And Dorian here refuses to answer our questions!”

“I thought it was as much your tale as mine,” Dorian shrugged and gave her her glass back with a wink. Lyssa took it with a murmured “thanks” and sat down. For a second, she just stared at the glass in her hand, then back at Dorian. He sat down as well, a decidedly casual air around him as he raised his glass towards her and took a big sip of wine. Behind his exaggerated calm, though, she could still see the strain of the last day. They had both had the opportunity to clean themselves, get their injuries tended to and change clothes, but the bruise on his cheek would be visible for the next week, and there were tired lines around his eyes. His smile had an edge of being forced, and when he met her eyes, it vanished.

“Quite a trip, huh?” he said, and for a moment, the exhaustion was plainly visible on his handsome face. Lyssa just nodded, biting her lip to keep it from quivering. Dorian’s eyes mirrored her own feelings of being overwhelmed, of being shaken to their very core. Everything still seemed so... unreal. And the worst thing was that right this moment, she wasn’t sure what felt more off: the travel through time or being back here, sitting at a table full of food and drinks, next to her friends that she had seen going to their death. Friends that she had seen being thrown towards her with broken necks and slit throats and gashes covering their dead bodies not two hours ago. Suddenly, she understood Leliana’s words - it had been real, even if it hadn’t happened. Wouldn’t happen. It had been _her_ reality. She had lived through it. They both had.

The moment stretched, silence filling every corner of the room as Lyssa and Dorian looked at each other in unspoken understanding. She didn’t see the concerned looks that Solas and Bull exchanged, but she felt their presence, calming and protective and let out a breath as she leaned back.

“That bad?” Bull finally asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

Dorian gave a small, humorless laugh and leaned back. “Worse!” he exclaimed, and Lyssa nodded again. Then she turned to Bull, feeling the desperate need to assure herself that they were all really here. That despite the horrible, potential reality of a bloody, nightmarish future, they were safe. At least in this moment.

“Can I hug you? I need to hug you.”

His eyebrows shot up at the sudden question, and she could see that she had managed to surprise him. Not that she blamed him. Even though they had grown close enough to call each other ‘friend’ in the last months since she had accepted him into the Inquisition, she had never initiated physical contact that went beyond an affectionate touch or clap on the shoulder. But having fought next to him, having talked to him and seeing his unwavering loyalty even in a future where he had thought her to be dead, up to a point where he sacrificed himself for her, made her realize how much she had actually come to trust him. She hadn’t been prepared for the excruciating pain of losing a friend she had felt at seeing his lifeless body carelessly tossed aside.

Despite his surprise, he didn’t hesitate. “Sure thing,” he grumbled, and Lyssa wrapped her arms around him. The feeling of his arms as he held her close grounded her, and it was as if she could feel some of his strength seeping into her, reassuring her that she really was back, really here - and so was he.

“I’m glad you’re here, Bull,” she mumbled against his shoulder, and for a moment, his hug tightened.

“Me too, boss.”

As Lyssa let go, she gave him a smile that he returned warmly. It was an honest, caring smile and she felt herself relax even more at the sight of it. Then, she turned to Solas who watched her with a rare softness in his eyes that woke a faint flutter in her stomach. For a second, she was glad for the wine that would explain the blush stealing into her cheeks.

“May I?” she asked quietly, and he inclined his head.

“Of course.” He spoke quietly, and the cadence of his voice sent a shiver down her back. But her need for physical contact went beyond the mutual attraction she had started to feel between them some time ago. Solas had been the first with whom she had found a genuine connection, and in the months they had traveled together, this bond had only strengthened. Their shared interest of elven culture and healing had formed the base of their friendship, but now they shared everything worth talking about. Solas had surprised her more than once with his knowledge and insights, and she, in turn, had given him a new understanding of the Dalish and their history. They both enjoyed bouncing ideas off each other, discussing events and plans. He had been the one to anchor her in this reality after the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and she felt the same security and hold now as he carefully pulled her into an embrace. She closed her eyes for a second, leaning her head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his arms holding her, of his warmth against her body. His scent enveloped her, clean and enticing, and for a second, she wasn’t quite sure whether the slight dizziness came from the one-and-a-half glass of wine she had downed before her dinner or from his proximity - and at the same time, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was here, now, in a reality where he wasn’t dead. One in which none of her friends were dead.

“Are you alright?” he murmured against her hair, and she nodded, another warm shiver running down her back.

“I am now,” she answered before letting go, giving him a shaky smile.

“You know, I feel rather left out now,” Dorian called over the table, and some of the tension in her evaporated at the playfulness in his voice. Lyssa huffed a laugh and got up.

“Then you better come here.”

He quickly jumped up and pulled her into a warm, tight hug. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmured, and her arms tightened around him before she let him go again.

“We did.”

“Hey, how come we have to wait more than six months for a hug like that and the Vint gets it after what. Three weeks?” Bull protested, and Dorian laughed. Lyssa gave the Qunari a grin, wrapping an arm around Dorian’s waist.

“Turns out you can’t be displaced in time, fight your way through demons and rifts and watch people you care about sacrifice themselves for you to get an opportunity to prevent this future from ever coming true without becoming friends. Plus, he asked,” she shrugged.

The amusement on Bull and Solas’ face died after just a second.

“You are not being metaphorical, are you?” Bull asked, and when she shook her head, he leaned forward, deadly serious. Solas straightened, alarm in his eyes.

“I think it is time we told them exactly what happened,” Dorian said. “And preferably get drunk while doing it.”

 

For the next few hours, Dorian and Lyssa took turns in telling Bull and Solas what they had seen in the future timeline, answering questions and discussing where they might start to stop this Elder One’s plans before they bore fruit. Night fell, the food and several bottles of wine disappeared, and slowly, the conversation turned calmer and more mundane. Lyssa had one arm propped on the table, face in hand as she swirled the last bit of wine in her glass, her eyes barely open, and let the voices wash over her, wrapping her into a calm, comforting blanket. She was finally feeling like herself again - like a drunk, half-asleep version of herself, true, but at least she was safe, warm and no longer hungry, and in the company of people she cared about. It was a vast difference to how she remembered the stay in the castle from the future. After they had come back, she had felt as if every shadow bore the possibility of breaking open and revealing yet another skeleton or blood stain, another demon or rift or just horrible, harrowing destruction. A shudder went through her at the thought and was nearly immediately chased away by a warm hand that carefully rubbed over her back and came to lie between her shoulder blades with a comforting weight.

“All good, boss?”

“Mhm,” she made with a content sigh and closed her eyes. She was too tired to keep them open, and her limbs felt heavy as stones, too heavy to move. Her thoughts swirled away, unfocussed, as her head sank down onto her arms. She didn’t want to go to sleep, not when there were such good friends here instead of nightmares that were prone to wait in her dreams. If only she wasn’t so very, very tired and Dorian’s adorable little snores were so calming and… Her thoughts evaporated into blissful nothingness.

The next thing she knew was the disorientation as something pulled her back from the brink of true sleep, and she blinked, confused. A familiar voice was next to her, but her eyes fell shut again before she could focus them.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Solas murmured, but all she managed to answer was a non-committal “Hm…” 

There was a vague sense of hands on her shoulders, carefully pulling her upright, but as much as she tried to, she wasn’t able to keep her eyes open or to answer any question that seemed to have been asked. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she heard a murmured conversation, but every time she tried to concentrate on it, the words grew meaningless and she slipped back into exhaustion. She felt herself lifted, her head sinking onto someone’s shoulder as she was carried into another room. A smile came onto her face as she recognized Solas’ scent and she murmured something approving that fled her mind as soon as she had said it. Lyssa didn’t even realize into which room he brought her and put her down on the bed, pulling a blanket over her, but when he got up to leave, she gave a little start and quickly grabbed his hand. Her eyes bore into his with sudden intensity. She didn’t want to lose the warm feeling the evening had left. The way they had cared for her, even if it was a barely conscious thought right now, had made her feel at home. And it had reminded her how much she had missed the tenderness, warmth, and closeness of casual, intimate touches and hugs. It was nearly dark in the room, and she could barely make out his features, but his fingers tightened calmingly around hers. Lyssa felt herself relax again, sinking deeper into the pillows with a sigh, but she didn’t let go of his hand. The thought of being alone was too much right now, especially in her current state of mind, where shadows where too dark and every memory threatened to turn into a full-blown nightmare.

“Stay?” she whispered, her eyes barely open. “Just… a moment… longer. Please?”

She could see him smile in the darkness, and with a flick of his hand, a barrier sprang into being around them, its golden shimmer illuminating the dark room for a second before it disappeared again, the magic in place.

“I’ll stay,” Solas murmured. “You’re safe.”

She felt the mattress shift slightly as he sat down next to her, never letting go of her hand. Lyssa tried to say thank you, but no sound made it out as she was already falling asleep again.

 

When she woke the next day, Solas was no longer in the room, but the faint shimmer at the door told her that he had placed a ward there before he had left. Slowly, she sat up and blinked against the daylight streaming through the window, a faint headache pulsing through her head. With a little groan, she stretched before she got out of bed and stumbled over to the dresser where the water was. She splashed her face and drank a big glass of water, clearing the dusty feeling in her mouth. With a sigh, she looked up into the small mirror hanging on the wall. She looked still exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes that were still puffy from last night. Droplets of water ran over her face and dripped down onto her hands. She could hear voices outside her room and through the window, and when she went over to open it, a fresh, clear autumn wind ruffled her hair that had come undone in the night. The sun was shining, people running around, heaving bags onto carts and preparing for the departure towards Haven. Suddenly she felt herself smile. There was life all around. They had made it back. The Tevinter Venatori had been defeated for now, and they had won the mages as allies - the next step was to close the Breach. At that moment, she was sure they would manage that as well. Once they did that, she would concentrate on this Elder One, readying herself for him as Solas had advised.

And they would make sure that the future she had seen would not come to pass.


	4. Through the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CN: injuries, broken bones

The darkness faded slowly into a misty grey as Lyssa opened her eyes. For the longest moment, she just lay there, unable to move, her mind working to catch up with what had happened.

The corrupted dragon. The Elder One. The avalanche.

_The avalanche!_

The memory came back in a flash.

_Tumbling stones and snow, the horrible, deafening sound of certain death closing in as she ran in panic, the pain as she was hurtled forward and down, down into darkness._

Lyssa gasped as she tried to turn to her side, sharp, red pain shooting through her shoulder and ribs, echoing in every muscle and bone and she uttered a strangled cry. The first movements were torture, her muscles sore and hard as stone, every limb cramping, and Lyssa felt as if her very being consisted only of agony as she slowly, tentatively picked herself up from the hard, ice-cold rock on which she had landed.

She whimpered as she finally made it into a kneeling position, a red haze coloring her vision. The throbbing pain made it hard to focus. Hot tears ran down her face, and the breath she gasped in was hurting in places she hadn’t known could hurt. This was bad. Her right shoulder seemed to be reduced to a knot of burning pain, and she couldn’t move her arm. Breathing hurt and when she carefully touched her forehead and cheek with her left hand, she felt a thick, crumbling sheet of dried blood.

Lyssa didn’t know how long she just sat there, trying to breathe and not lose consciousness again, the minutes ticking by in the rhythm of a faint water drop somewhere in that cave into which she had plunged. Finally, she managed to fumble at her belt with stiff fingers, finding the pouch where she kept a few vials of healing potion. As expected, she found mostly glass shards, but somehow three of the vials had survived the fall. Her hand was shaking as she pulled the corks out with her teeth and downed them all, ignoring the dizziness the movement of her head immediately elicited. The effect wasn’t as instant as she had hoped, but after another few minutes, she found she could breathe easier, and the throbbing pain in her head had subsided enough that she found herself able to think again. Carefully, she took stock of her injuries. Her right shoulder seemed to just be sprained, and the potions had eased the pain considerably, but her arm was definitely broken. She didn’t dare peel off her leather vambraces, but a superficial check told her that the bones hadn’t broken through the skin at least. She wasn’t sure whether her ribs were broken as well but didn’t think about it too much - there wasn’t anything she could do about that anyway. At least she was still able to move, even if it hurt like the Blight.

It took her a long time to be able to summon her magic and even longer to be able to concentrate enough to send it through her body. The usual ease with which she found the worst of her injuries was nowhere to be found, but she managed to heal at least some of her wounds. After what felt like hours, she was finally able to get up again, with her right arm pressed tightly against her body. She had tried to build a sling with her scarf, but it was makeshift at best. Her legs screamed in protest as she took the first steps into the cave passage opening in front of her.

It looked like a mine shaft, and Lyssa faintly remembered how Cullen had once told her that the whole mountain was riddled with these kinds of passages and caves, only half of which were actually explored. She had been lucky beyond measure. Now she could only hope to find a way out of the mountain. And then towards where the rest of Haven’s refugees were.

At least she knew they made it out - the red flare was still like a beacon bright in her mind. She only hoped that her companions had made it out as well - Solas, Cassandra, Sera, those who had been with her until the corrupted dragon had separated them and she had madly gestured at them to leave, to get to safety. Before the emerging, dreadful figure of the Elder One had found its way towards her through the flames.

She hadn’t expected to come out of the whole thing alive, knowing this was a suicide mission from the moment she had told Cullen to get the people through the passage.

And yet, there she was. Bruised and battered, with broken bones and in agony, but she was still alive.

The following hours went by in a haze.

She wasn’t surprised when she met despair demons - so close to the Breach, even if it was sealed, she had expected even more after the attack. After the surprisingly short fight, she just stared at her hand and the green flickering between her fingers, slowly flexing them. Something was different.

What had the Elder One done?

When he had grabbed her and pulled her up by the arm, it had felt as if he had tried to tear the inside of her hand out through the skin, angry green sparks and tiny lightning bolts flashing. Lyssa had felt it through her whole body. It hadn’t exactly hurt, but it had been… weird. As if something had pulled at her very being and failed to get a hold. But it had woken something, made her more aware of where the Anchor sat and how it interconnected with her own magic. When the despair demons had attacked, she hadn’t even thought about what to do, just _used_ it and they had faded back behind the Veil. It seemed as if the Elder One had strengthened her without meaning to. The thought gave her back some resolve, and she closed her hand into a fist, straightening before she limped on, towards the icy breeze that told her there was an opening ahead.

Even before she stepped out into the darkness, the freezing wind whipped her hair around her face, tiny ice shards, and snowflakes biting into her skin. An angry howl was in the air. Lyssa nearly faltered, her steps barely more than a stumble. She grabbed the wet, cold rocks in the opening to steady herself, despair rising within her as she looked out into the darkness streaked with white. How was she to find the others in this weather?

A sob escaped her, drowned by the wind, as she sagged back against the wall.

She didn’t want to go out there. She couldn’t!

Her hand shook as she covered her eyes to keep the threatening tears at bay. She was so tired, so very tired… she only wanted to rest. To lie down and sleep, sleep until the pain was gone - until she was found.

But she wouldn’t be found, and she knew it. Nobody was searching for her. She was alone.

Lyssa took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up. She had to do this. There was nobody here to save her, nobody but herself. And the longer she waited, the farther away the others would be - and she needed to catch up with them as long as she could walk.

“Mythal, all-mother, protector of the People, watch over me, for the path I tread is perilous,” she whispered as she pushed herself off the wall and took her first step into the howling storm. The coldness bit harshly into her, numbing her nearly instantly. She gritted her teeth as she raised her arm against the wind and took another step, and another. “Save me from the darkness, as you did before, and I will sing your name to the heavens.”

The prayer was lost in the storm, the cold dulling the pain in her limbs as she fought on, step for step. The storm and the darkness of night made it difficult to see how far she got as she struggled up the mountain, away from Haven. The only thing she could do was concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. One more, always one step more until she stopped feeling them, and then another one.

It was pure luck that she looked up when she did, the storm pausing as if to take a breath, and she saw the leftovers of a campsite. It was cold and already halfway covered in snow, left behind for at least a day. But still, it made her nearly weep with joy.

She was on the right track; she had found the refugees’ trail!

As she knelt down to rekindle the fire with her magic, her teeth clattering under the overhanging rock that provided a little shelter from the storm, she forced herself to do some calculations. From the looks of it, they had left this campsite approximately a day ago. It had been nighttime when the attack came, and they wouldn’t have stopped for a few hours after fleeing Haven. If she knew Cullen, she was probably right in assuming that they spent the second half of the night here and started again in the morning. While that day had come and gone, she had lain unconscious in the mine shaft, waking in the underground darkness, and then struggled through the mountain, missing every bit of sunlight. When she had come out, it had been night again.

Slowly, the feeling returned into her limbs as she stretched her hands and feet towards the fire. With the warmth returning to her body, the pain returned as well, but she didn’t mind it half as much as the numbness. The pain kept her alert and awake, and she couldn’t rest for too long. She was at least one and a half day behind the group - and that was only true if she had not lost more than that day in the cave. For all she knew, she could have been unconscious for a whole day, which would put them ahead another day. She couldn’t afford to stay longer.

With great effort, Lyssa pushed herself up again and walked on. Her broken arm screamed in protest at every misstep, every stumble, the pain keeping her going through the grey dawn that shimmered through the still howling storm that only slowly died down during the following hours. It stopped long enough to enable her to find a second campsite.

Just like the first one, this was cold. Or at least she thought so until she laid her hand onto the coals and detected a faint warmth.

She was catching up!

It seemed that even with her injuries she was able to outmatch the pace of such a big group as the refugees from Haven. Lyssa fell to her knees in front of the flames she had awoken and muttered a prayer to Mythal, grateful tears on her cheeks. As she sank back against the rough bark of a tree, she barely noticed how quickly her eyes closed. The warmth from the flames tingled through her ice-cold body, wrapping itself around her like a blanket, and before she knew it, she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

 

When she woke, it took her a while to regain her bearings. All her mind was screaming was pain and a dark, consuming exhaustion. The fire had gone out again, and she was shivering, barely managing to use her magic to warm herself up again. But the clouds had ripped open wide enough to show a sinking sun. Slowly, Lyssa picked herself up and continued into the falling night. Two or three days since the attack on Haven. For a moment, she was close to panic, but with an effort, she was able to push the thought out of her mind. The campsite had still had some faint warmth left. She was catching up - or had been catching up before she had fallen asleep. 'I can still do it', she told herself. She had already come further than she had thought she would.

The storm picked up again that night, but Lyssa didn’t dare stop, not even to catch her breath, afraid she wouldn’t be able to get up again. She fought from tree to tree until there were no more trees, then from boulder to boulder, following the only way she could think of: up and away from Haven. The Breach was a green scar shimmering in the sky, still visible now and then through the racing clouds that were being torn apart by the whipping cold winds. The stars died, and a cold sun rose, and Lyssa fought on throughout the grey, stormy day, one heavy footstep after another. Finally, when the darkness of night came again, the storm seemed to calm down for good, the snowflakes slowing to a silent fall. She nearly missed the third campsite, her thoughts barely more than disjointed scraps of _keep going, keep going_ …

The dying glow of embers in one of the campfires was what caught her attention, and she swayed, unable to even try to rekindle the flames and too exhausted to cry from relief as she realized that she was close, so close. If there were still embers here, they couldn’t be much more than a few hours ahead. She barely managed to force herself up again, onwards, through the boulders and the nearly knee-deep snow.

“There! It’s her!”

She dismissed the first voice she heard as imagination, as wishful thinking. But then there was the unmistakable shine of light down the path, the warmth of campfires visible. Lyssa stopped as she saw someone running towards her, and just like that, her legs gave in, and she fell to her knees.

“Thank the Maker!” Was that Cassandra’s voice? A wave of relief washed through Lyssa as she saw the warrior rush towards her.

Several hands were there to steady her, but she only looked at Cassandra. “You made it!” she wanted to call in relief, but all that came out was a broken murmur. The Seeker gave her a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her waist as she steadied her.

“I did. We all did. Thanks to you.”

“Solas? Sera?” Lyssa whispered, and Cassandra nodded.

“They are safe as well. Let’s get you to the camp.”

It was the last thing Lyssa heard before she collapsed.

 

* * *

 

She woke to the touch of cool fingers on her face and the feeling of magic engulfing her. There was no searing pain, just a dull background hurt throughout her body, telling her that she was probably heavily dosed with potions. A familiar sight greeted her as she opened her eyes; Solas sitting next to her, his face calm and focused as he worked his magic. It reminded her of the moment in Haven when she had woken for a brief moment after she had stumbled out of the Fade, even before she had found herself in chains. Back then he had also healed her, stabilizing the Anchor even though she hadn’t known it yet. When Solas met her eyes, he smiled, unmistakable relief in his eyes, and the flow of magic around her stopped.

“You made it,” Lyssa murmured.

Solas nodded. “So did you. Again.”

“That was so stupid!” Suddenly Sera’s face was next to Solas’, glaring at her. “Why did you do that?! Made me go away an’ all! I still had arrows!”

“Sera…” Solas sighed, annoyance in his voice, but the archer shook her head.

“No! It was stupid! You could’ve died! I thought you were dead, we all did! You could’ve been crushed in that stupid avalanche! Why would you give yourself up and send me away? Why!” It was more a demand than a question, and Lyssa could see the uproar of emotion in Sera’s face, in the way she blinked too often and pressed her lips together, raising her chin.

“Because you’re worth it,” she simply answered, her voice weak, and Sera gave a jerk as if Lyssa had hit her. “You’re worth saving.” Her eyes wandered back to Solas who had stilled at her words, looking at her with a rare softness in his features. “You all are.”

For a moment there was silence, then Sera wiped her hand over her eyes in an angry gesture. “Still stupid,” she snarled and stalked away.

“Thank you,” she heard Solas’ hushed voice. Lyssa slowly opened her eyes again to look at him.

“For what?”

“Saving us,” he clarified, and the blue glow of healing magic started to flow from his hands again, soothing the pain and soreness in her right arm and ribs. She smiled slightly, raising her left hand to take his.

“I always will if I can,” she murmured, the words blurring together as she felt herself sink back into the healing darkness. Solas gave her hand a slight squeeze and laid it back down when he saw she was unconscious again, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face.

 


	5. Marked

Lyssa spent the following days more asleep or unconscious than awake, her body healing the smaller injuries thanks to the combined effort of potions and magic. When she was strong enough to get up, she had several more scars to remind her of Haven’s fall.

Her arm was still far from healed, though, and would take another few weeks until she would be able to use it fully again. She held it close to herself, throbbing pain pounding through her as she stared in disbelief at the survivors who knelt down before her the first time she was able to walk the camp. She had barely had time to realize that she had survived the avalanche and the way towards the camp. And now… this. Her eyes wandered helplessly over the people, and she wasn’t able to react. But it didn’t seem they expected her to. They were content to watch her, their song rising through the cold air as if she was nothing more than a statue. Somewhere beneath her exhaustion, she could even understand it. She was a symbol. A tool. Something that gave them hope. Nothing more.

That did not make it easier for Lyssa, though. On the contrary; it just made her feel like something less than a person.

Two weeks later, she still didn’t know how to react to people kneeling before her, asking her to bless them or to those telling her their innermost fears along with the plea to talk to Andraste on their behalf. There was no moment in the day when she didn’t have eyes on her. And while Solas discreetly directed them towards the stronghold he knew, it wasn’t him they looked to for direction. Day after day, they went on through the mountains and cold, and day after day, Lyssa made sure to walk around the camp to lift the survivors’ spirits, to keep them going, to smile and assure them that they would find a place to stay, soon. It was a strange position she found herself in. She was used to traveling this way, and as First to the Keeper, making sure that everyone was alright was part of the life she had left behind in the Free Marches when she left for the Conclave. But in the clan, she was one of them. She was a part of the family, an equal among them. People had greeted her, joked or fought with her like with everyone else.

Here, on the trek through snow and rocks, however, she was always apart. What had started as hailing her as Herald was now open devotion and worship. It did not matter what she said, to the Andrastians she had come back from the dead. She was touched by the Maker.

In the beginning, she had tried to protest, that she had only been lucky and not saved by their god, but after a while, she stopped trying to convince them otherwise. They did not want to hear it. Mother Giselle thanked her for leaving the people to their faith, for giving them hope, her gentle smile never leaving her lips. But she never stopped to inquire after how Lyssa felt about it, and she didn’t seem to notice how her Herald remained pale and silent, despite the fact that her injuries were mostly healed. 

Apart from her arm, few injuries still bothered Lyssa. The bruises and cuts had reduced to yellow patches and barely visible reddish scars. But Lyssa had stopped counting how many nights she had laid awake, not daring to sleep for fear of nightmares. Nightmares in which she saw the Elder One again, this time coming for her through the snowstorm to finish the job, in which she watched her fingers break off from the cold because she hadn’t been able to find her way to the camp, or in which the Breach reopened, this time to swallow her whole. Nightmares that gave the ones she had had since Redcliffe a new layer, a distorted face, and a booming voice.

They were lonely nights, despite the many people around her.

This night was no different. After gasping awake from a nightmare, she just lay there, staring into the night sky while she waited for her heart to slow down again. For the longest time, she forced herself to stay awake, listening to the sounds of their camp until she finally could no longer stomach it. She sat up and put her face into her hands. The faint breathing, coughing, whispers of the camp, moans from the injured and the weapon rustle from the guards beneath the ever-present wind did nothing to soothe her. Suddenly, Cole was kneeling next to her, his eyes piercing and tender at the same time.

“He’s coming closer each night,” he whispered, “but it’s not the nights that are the darkest. The song, warped into a scream, into a thousand constant whispers, raising you, shackling you.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, her heart clenching at the truth in his words. Lyssa still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the spirit. She had seen how he had comforted Roderick in his last moments, had talked to him, and she believed that he was here to help them, but it was the first time she interacted with a spirit that had taken corporeal form beyond the Veil. And his words were unsettling to a degree that made it hard to react to.

“I want to help,” he said.

“I don’t think you can, Cole,” she replied quietly after a moment. “But thank you. I just need… some quietness.”

Cole did not move, but she could feel his eyes following her as she got up and grabbed her coat. The guard perked up and looked at her anxiously when she walked by. But the woman did not try to stop her, even as Lyssa left the camp to search for a place to be at peace, to be alone, to breathe. There was no moon, just the stars in the velvet darkness, and she shivered despite her fur-lined coat as she wandered aimlessly over the snow. They were so high in the mountains that there were no trees, no plants to collect, no deer to watch - nothing she would normally do to calm down - and so she just kept walking. She did not get far before she nearly stumbled over the edge of a cliff. Lyssa took it as a sign to stop and sat down to watch the stars, trying to somehow find some peace of mind. But despite the cold and the little walk, it was hard to shake the tiredness from her limbs and the nightmare from her mind. Her thoughts were a sluggish mess, still circling around Cole’s words as she heard footsteps approaching. With an exhausted sigh, she closed her eyes without turning. She should have known that the guard would alert Cullen who in turn had probably raised the whole camp. The thought of going back to questions and worries and whispers and looks horrified her, and suddenly she regretted leaving at all.

“Are you alright?"

The question was quiet, unobtrusive, and some of the tension in Lyssa evaporated as she recognized Solas’ voice. She had expected a guard, ready to take her back to the camp. But Solas would not intrude, that she knew. A warm feeling washed through her at the thought that he had come to find her and she found she didn’t mind his presence at all. When she looked up, she could see a mix of worry and relief around his eyes. He was always so well-composed that some thought him detached and cold, but in the last few months, Lyssa had learned to read him. They had become close enough that he let his guard down around her more and more - just like now. To most, he would seem calm, but she could see in the way he let out his breath and how the strain around his mouth eased how worried he had actually been. She gave him a small smile and with a conscious effort loosened the grip of her fingers where she had hugged herself. “Yes, I am.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at her words and stepped closer. “There is no need to lie to me, lethallan," he said softly.

Lyssa took a deep breath and looked down, his remark unsettling her more than she liked to admit. She should have known that pretending to be fine wouldn’t work on him. Even though she was surprised by how many people were deceived by her lies - or just didn’t call her out - Solas had never been one of them. He had a knack for asking the right questions, saying the thing that would get to the core of her. Most other people were content with superficial answers that told them what they wanted to hear. It still wasn’t often that someone actually cared enough to check how she was. And the truth was, she wasn’t alright, hadn’t been since Haven, and not because of her injuries which healed just fine. 

Solas sat down next to her when she didn’t answer him. Absentmindedly, she noticed how careful he positioned himself - close, but not so close as to impose on her.

“Did Cullen send you?” she asked tiredly, but Solas shook his head.

“Not directly. He was worried about the guard’s report, but when I told him I’d make sure you’re safe, he seemed calm enough.”

Lyssa breathed a sigh of relief. So there weren’t half a dozen guards searching the mountains for her.

“Lyssa, what is it?" Solas asked after another moment of silence. She looked over the valley that opened up directly before them like a gap in the mountainside. A clear sky full of stars stretched above them, tiny jewels in the vastness of night slowly blinking out as more and more clouds rolled over the mountaintop. The velvety blackness seemed endless up here, so far away from every settlement, the stars silver and blue and golden sparkles that were brighter than she had ever seen before. But tonight it seemed ready to swallow her. Solas did not press her to answer, waiting patiently, an unobtrusive and warm presence next to her.

“I don’t know how to do this for much longer, Solas," she finally admitted in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Her fingers clawed painfully into her sides as she hugged herself closer.

When she didn’t continue, he asked softly, “Do what?”

Lyssa shrugged helplessly. “Be… whatever they think I am. Andraste’s chosen. The one leading them to safety. Because I’m not. I survived the mark, the attack, the avalanche, the storm, yes. But it all was by coincidence and luck, because Corypheus made stupid mistakes, because you kept me alive and now lead us all. Not because I am special in any way. Yet they still look at me, ask me, me of all people to bless them!”

She shook her head, pressing a hand against her eyes, Cole’s words coming back to her.  _ A thousand constant whispers _ . For a moment she thought she heard them on the wind and she took a shuddering breath. She looked at Solas who watched her intently, without judgement. 

“They knelt before me, Solas,” she exclaimed.” Me! They sang one of their Chantry hymns!” Lyssa gave a bitter laugh. “Many of them wouldn’t have looked at me twice if they had passed me before all of this. And the rest would have shied away or tried to use or kill me.”

She put out her hand, the green magic of the Anchor faintly visible beneath her skin, sparks falling from her palm. “All of this… this worship, this elevating me to someone beyond mortal laws - it’s a lie. They willingly ignore everything that makes me  _ me _ . Suddenly I am no longer an elf, no longer Dalish. Not the knife-ear, the scum. But their Herald.”

She shook her head again, but the agitation was gone. Instead, her voice was brittle and tired. “They look at me, but they don’t see me. They see a symbol, their savior, but not me. I am the embodiment of their hope and somehow they forget I am a person.”

Her throat was tight, and the silence next to her was deafening. But still, she kept going, fearing that if she stopped, she might look at him and see only incomprehension or pity. “And I know they need that right now. They need someone to project their hopes onto. But how can I be all that when I can barely sleep or cope with the cold? How can I be what they need me to be when I’m overwhelmed and hurting all the time and… just me and nothing more?”

Her desperate and exhausted words seemed to hang in the cold air between the tiny snowflakes that had started to fall. An icy wind picked them up and carried them away, and Lyssa took a deep breath, filling her lungs with cold against the tears threatening to well up before she finally dared to look at Solas who had become very still next to her. He seemed oddly stricken. And at the same time, there was an unconditional understanding in his eyes. 

“I think you underestimate yourself,” he eventually said, nearly as quietly as she. “You are stronger, you are more than you think you are. In these last months, you have already proven yourself to be a capable leader that takes risks where needed and stands by your decisions. I know the expectations they place on you are enormous - but knowing they are not actually placing them on you, but on the person they think you are can even work to your advantage. It doesn’t matter that I am the one knowing the way through the mountains, it doesn’t matter that Cullen was the one leading the refugees away from Haven or that Dorian was the one working the magic that brought you back in time in Redcliffe. The people will give you the credit whether you deserve it or not - because, as you said, they need you to be their hero.”

He turned more fully towards her, his face serious. “The burden of the leader is a heavy one - especially when it is the leader of a rebellion like the Inquisition is. There will be moments when it feels like you will fail. There will be moments of weakness and errors, even loss. But you will be able to bear it. I have no doubt about it. How can you not? You’ve made it through so much already.”

“Barely,” Lyssa interrupted, but he just smiled, his eyes burning into hers.

“Maybe so, but you still made it. You have all the strength you need. It might not be something you chose - but you were marked for it nonetheless.”

Lyssa looked down on her left hand, closing a fist over the Anchor. “Marked indeed," she murmured, and Solas surprised her with a low laugh. Somehow, the sound cheered her up.

“Indeed," he repeated and the amusement resonated in his voice. When she looked at him again, he openly smiled at her. “By coincidence or fate, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you can do it. You already did what nobody else could, and I’m not talking about Haven. It started much earlier - when you survived receiving the Anchor. And this is something you did on your own. It was your will and strength that pulled you through. Nobody else. I was there when you fought for your life, I know it.”

Lyssa stared at him for a few moments, stunned not only by what he had said but how he had said it. There was a passion and understanding in his voice that touched her more than she had anticipated. Without thinking about it, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly. “Thank you," she murmured, and he nodded, his fingers closing warmly around hers without hesitation. 

“You can make this work, I know it. If anyone can, it is you," Solas said, his voice dropping ever so slightly and Lyssa felt herself blush. The smile on his face softened as he saw it. For a moment, there was a spark between them. Her breath caught as she saw his eyes flicker to her lips, a flash of tenderness on his face and her heart started to race. His fingers tightened slightly around her hand... but then, he straightened and let go, clearing his throat.

She hadn’t even realized he had leaned towards her, but now the distance between them seemed surprisingly large. Lyssa let out a breath that clouded in the cold night air, a strange combination of regret and hope coursing through her. Regret at the sudden distance, hope at the way he had looked at her. It was the first time that she felt as if the attraction might be mutual after all. She stole a glance at him, her heart still beating quickly in her chest, a steady rhythm that only slowly calmed down in the silence that stretched between them. He gave her a small smile as she met his eyes, and there was a hint of warmth to his voice, even though it was once again calm and deliberately detached. 

“And we can work on the rest together. You might be the one people see as their leader, but you don’t have to bear the burden alone. If you have difficulties sleeping, I can help you.”

She only wished she could feel the same certainty that she could hear in his voice. Lyssa hesitated for a second. “It’s not that I can’t fall asleep, it’s the dreams," she finally admitted.

“I see.” Solas was quiet for a few moments, his gaze wandering out over the valley stretching before them. It had now begun to snow in earnest, thick flakes slowly falling all around them and melting on their coats. He seemed to struggle with something and then came to a conclusion. “If you wish," he started, somewhat hesitantly, “I could keep watch.”

Lyssa blinked, unsure whether she understood him correctly. “Keep watch… over my dreams?” she asked. 

Solas nodded earnestly, the professionalism of a scholar in his demeanor, a careful mask he was prone to donning when there was a delicate matter to discuss. “As you know I’ve made the Fade my primary subject of study. I am familiar with directing dreams. And if not that, at least keep demons at bay.”

Lyssa sat up a little bit more upright, her eyes widening. The thought of demons catching a ride on her dreams towards her hadn’t occurred to her before. Maybe that was the reason the Elder One came closer each night? And in her current state of mind, she was far from in the best condition to battle demons. Still, the thought of someone watching her dreams, no matter the reason, was somewhat unnerving.

“Would you be in my dreams then?" she asked, suddenly remembering that he had featured in her dreams a few times already. While the thought to have him appear again wasn’t something to be avoided, she figured it might be embarrassing for both of them if he saw her unconscious, uncensored image of himself. 

Solas cocked his head ever so slightly, and a slow smile spread over his lips as he saw her cheeks coloring. There was a hint of teasing in his voice, as he said, “Only if you wished me to be.”

There it was again, the spark and the connection and Lyssa chuckled, shaking her head at him. His smile had a rare touch of mischievousness about it, and she couldn’t help but smile back - her first honest, open smile in days. Solas cleared his throat and looked over the valley again before he added more softly, “They still are your dreams. I wouldn’t invade your privacy.”

For a moment, she just looked at him, noticing his elegant, nearly timeless features, the snowflakes falling around it. In a gentle voice, she said, “Thank you, Solas. I will consider it.”

He looked back at her and inclined his head, then he got up and offered her a hand. She accepted and he helped her up, carefully avoiding touching her injured arm. But when she stood before him, Solas didn’t let go of her but kept her hand tenderly between his fingers. His voice was warm as he said, “I did not want to impose on you, especially since you barely seem to be alone. But if you ever need an open ear, I am here for you. There is no need to bear it alone, Lyssa.”

His words hit home, and suddenly, tears shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed hard to keep them from falling. For a second, the grip of his hand around hers tightened, and his eyes were soft with understanding. Lyssa took a deep breath, blinking the tears away before she nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, then she let go of his hand.

“We should get back before Cullen launches search parties after all," she said, and Solas inclined his head, waking a mage light on the top of his staff to ease their way. They went back to the camp in silence. No words were necessary and Lyssa felt better than she had in days.


	6. Roots

“Inquisitor?”

Cullen’s voice slowly made its way into Lyssa’s consciousness, and she looked up from the war table, coming out of her thoughts somewhat confused.

“Yes?” she asked tentatively.

“What do you say?”

She blinked. “To what?”

The shuffling of feet across the floor and the looks her advisors exchanged told her that this was not what she should have said. Cullen took a deep breath, seemingly calming himself, Leliana crossed her arms, and Josephine cleared her throat. Her face was more concerned than annoyed as she said, “To what we’ve been discussing the last few minutes?”

Cullen mumbled, “More like the last half hour," but when Josephine gave him a scathing look, he shrank into himself.

Lyssa looked from one to the other, desperately trying to remember what they had been talking about and failing.

“I...” she started and only realized she had made a step backwards when Leliana suddenly looked alarmed. For a second, she tried to force herself to focus, to stay alert and, even more importantly, _stay_ but when she saw Josie’s list of topics and the huge map full of little figurines and notes and marks, she just couldn’t. Suddenly, it was all just too much.

“I’m sorry. Whatever you think best. I, uhm… need to go. I’m sorry.”

And with that, she fled the room, Josephine's concerned voice as she called after her cut short by the slamming of the heavy door as it fell shut. Lyssa hurried along the corridor, more and more quickly. Too late did she realize that she’d have to cross the main hall with all the dignitaries and nobles trying to get a word with her, trying to win her favor or making her bless them. They had been at Skyhold for only a week now and already the keep filled with more and more people every day.

“Inquisitor!” - “My lady Inquisitor, a word?” - “It’s her!” - “Herald, would you mind…”

The words and voices crashed over her like a wave, and for a long horrible moment, the world seemed to consist only of human faces bearing down on her, wearing false smiles and pleas between walls that were too thick and too close. She forced herself to breathe and smile as she made her way through the many, too many people around her, even as her throat threatened to close, making it hard to get enough air to breathe.

“Excuse me," she murmured, again and again, forcing herself through the mass of people between her and the main doors. By the time she reached them, she was nearly running.

“Ember, are you alright?" she heard Varric when she hurried past him, but she didn’t stop.

The open sky in the courtyard helped for a few seconds until the first voices reached her again, some greetings from scouts or soldiers, some from diplomats who had actually followed her outside and Lyssa decided that stopping wasn’t an option. More “Excuse me’s,” more forced smiles and breathing, more hurrying along, towards the battlements. But everywhere she went, someone was already there. Lyssa walked every battlement, every courtyard, visited the garden and tried in vain to avoid the priests there, but instead of the solace she had hoped for, the stones and the people seemed to close in on her with every step. Her throat started to tighten, and she dug her fingernails so deeply into her palm she had drawn blood. She knew she couldn’t leave the keep without raising the alarm and at one point she just froze, close to a panic. She forced her eyes towards the open sky, towards the few treetops softly swaying in the wind but even now, someone was coming towards her. Another voice, another person, another question or prayer or plea or idle talk that held no meaning. _No no no_ … no more. Where could she be alone?

Her eyes widened as the obvious answer came to her. How could she have forgotten the one place where nobody would disturb her?

Quickly, she stole through the kitchen and the main hall to the only place she knew she’d be alone: her room. Faster and faster, her feet bore her up the stairs, away from the many people in this strange keep.

 

The relief when she slammed the door behind her only remained for a few seconds, though. As she walked through the vast room with its banners and ornaments, the luxuries and drapes, the huge bed, she couldn’t see herself even remotely within it. This was a stranger’s room, some other person able to bear the burden and dignity of Inquisitor, not she, the elf, the Keeper, the healer.

With a strangled cry, she ran out onto the balcony, her clammy hands grabbing the balustrade, her breathing heavy and labored. With only the cold, the sky above her and the deadly depths beneath her, she was at least no longer confined. For several minutes she just stared out into the mountains until she no longer felt like breathing took an effort, then she sank down onto the cold floor, her back to the wall.

_Faces and words and stone and cold pressing down, making it hard to forget, making it hard to remember who she is and how to breathe…_

The whispered words took shape, and when Lyssa looked up from where she had sunk to the ground, Cole sat before her, his face hidden beneath the big hat. “Always the one not belonging, always apart, rootless and uprooted. Nothing here that is truly mine, having left everything and everyone behind. Red sails and white fur. Do they miss me at all?”

She stared at him, her heart clenching at his words and a sob she hadn’t known was in her escaped her lips. She missed them so much it hurt. It was a constant in a corner of her heart, as if a piece of her was missing. And never had she felt it more keenly than since they had forced the burden of Inquisitor on her, a burden dressed as an honor. A tear ran down her cheek, and she pressed her hand against her mouth, waiting, _hoping_ for him to continue. A curious, distant expression was on Cole’s face as he tilted his head so she could see his eyes. He was looking at her - or rather _through_ her.

“A prayer rising up between the red sails with every dusk. All-mother, protect her. Pride in the stories they share. One of ours, raised and listened to. She will make us proud. A whisper between trees. Lethallan.”

Lyssa let out a shivering breath, more tears spilling despite the relieved laugh bubbling within her. They were thinking of her! She had no doubt about the truth in Cole’s words, and she sank deeper against Skyhold’s wall, some of the tension leaving her.

“Ma serannas, Cole,” she whispered and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

“I helped,” he said, with something like wonder in his voice. “They hurt for you, they worry, but there is less hurt now in you.”

Lyssa wiped over her cheek. “Yes. It helps, knowing that there still is a connection. Even if it’s stretched so thin that only a spirit can sense it.”

For a long time, Cole didn’t say anything, just looked at her, flickering in and out of perception like he did, holding his crouching position for far longer than a normal person would have been able to. There was no judgment at all in him, just a soothing presence so faint as to not be obtrusive. Just having him here made Lyssa breathe easier.

“But there is more…” his distant voice whispered. “They are watching you, always watching, always from the outside, the elf, the murderer, the Mark, the Herald, the Chosen, the Inquisitor. Always the symbol, never the person, wrapped in too much gold and green. The necessary distance. An empty scream, unheard.”

Lyssa wasn’t sure if Cole had said the words out aloud, but they hit home, echoing in the ache within her. He formed the words around the feelings of loneliness and insecurity that ate at her, the feeling of not being a _someone_ to most of the people here. And while in the beginning, she had upheld the distance to them all herself, now she craved some sort of closer connection more than anything. And she had found friends - in Solas, Dorian, Bull, Varric, even Cassandra, Josephine, and Scout Harding. But how would she be able to be just a person to them from the pedestal she was always placed upon?

“But there are new bonds," Cole continued wonderingly, “glittering and strong, made of respect and admiration and fear and love.”

Lyssa paused and looked at the spirit, her heart skipping a beat. “Love?” she finally asked, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

It was a hope she had denied herself for months now, ever since she had found herself thinking about Solas more and more. She couldn't remember a specific moment when she had realized that she felt more for Solas than friendship. It had grown in situations like the night at the cliff when he had shown her concern and tenderness and warmth. He had become someone she could rely on, and she treasured his presence that was never imposing, his intelligence and their mutual delight in gathering and sharing knowledge. The moments when she caught him looking at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that always had a touch of wonder in it, the moments when a certain twinkle in his eyes teased her and his delight when he managed to make her blush. She could read him well enough to see he felt _something_ for her too, but so far he had always closed up as soon as the atmosphere became too intimate. She hadn’t pushed, unsure whether she over-interpreted his feelings.

Cole looked at her in his quizzical way, tilting his head. “Yes,” he said and carefully touched a finger to her sternum, “here.”

Lyssa let out a breath. “Ah,” she sighed, but Cole wasn’t finished.

“And down there.” He looked towards the courtyard and the battlements beneath them. “Many love you. You saved them. Don’t you know?”

She closed her eyes, pushing the disappointment back down and shook her head. “Cole, they don’t love me,” she said quietly. “They love the idea of me being someone sent to them. They love a symbol, a picture they paint in their head. Not me. Everything they think I am is only because of the mark.” She closed her fingers above the green shimmer in her palm. Cole shook his head.

“It started that way, but there is more now. Connecting to courage and honesty and hope.”

“I’m not sure if there is enough of me here to actually connect to," Lyssa whispered, her voice small. Even after all these months she still felt like she was perpetually trying to catch up with everything that happened.

“Then you should get more of you here," Cole answered and flickered out of her perception. She sighed tiredly and let her face sink into her hands, her tears dried on her cheeks. A part of her wondered when she had started to converse so easily with the spirit. For a long time, she sat there, staring out into the mountains, until the skies filled with the first stars and she felt like every bit of warmth of her body had seeped into the cold stones of the balcony. When she finally got up and crawled beneath the blankets on her bed, she was chilled to the bone but strangely peaceful.

Cole’s words had struck a chord in her. Too long had she held onto trying to be invisible. It was time she stopped pretending she could go home soon and accepted that this was her new home for the foreseeable future - maybe for years to come. Skyhold was not just a keep, a collection of stones in a mountain. It was the place where she would have to make decisions that could change the face of the earth. Nearly every night, she was reminded in her dreams what awaited Thedas if Corypheus won this war. But she wouldn’t be able to face him if she was ready to leave everything behind any moment. She needed to put down roots if she wanted to withstand the storm that was yet to come.

So she would make this her home, her foundation. She had already formed friendships, had found people she treasured and found a connection with. She delighted in flirting with Dorian who had managed more than anyone else to lure her out of her shell. He was probably the most unlikely friend she had ever had, but his exaggerated demeanor was just a mask for the warm, caring person beneath that she had come to care for. After their bumpy start, Cassandra had shown her nothing but respect and had become someone she relied on. Varric never failed to make her smile. Iron Bull was someone who managed to steady and strengthen her. And then there was Solas. A warm, nervous tingle spread through her at the thought, and she smiled slightly. She couldn’t place the moment when she had fallen in love with him. But after they had reached Skyhold, she had stopped trying to deny it to herself even though she was far from sure about the extent of his feelings for her. But maybe, just maybe, this would change if she could find it in herself to be more at peace here.

 

* * *

 

Dawn was already on the horizon, a soft pink creeping over the snow-covered mountaintops when Lyssa finally fell asleep, her head buzzing with thoughts, her heart heavy with emotion. When she woke barely two hours later, she was still exhausted to the bone, but she felt much more at peace. She dragged herself towards the small bathroom with a sigh, throwing cold water into her face. This day would be a long one. She was just getting dressed when she heard a knock at the door. With a sigh, she pulled the tunic over her head and went to answer.

But the person standing before her was not the messenger she had expected, bearing a summon from her advisors. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up at Solas, her sleep-deprived brain trying in vain to come up with something more intelligent than a surprised “Solas?”

He inclined his head and gave her a slight smile. “You didn’t come last night. I was worried.”

Lyssa took a breath, feeling both guilty and incredibly touched. Ever since their talk at the cliff, they had made a habit of sharing a few moments each night, just talking about the day or sometimes even just being in each other’s company. It was one of the few times a day when she did not feel like she had to pretend to be someone else, something _more_ than she actually was. He told her small stories about the things, people and emotions he encountered in the Fade, and she shared her own experiences or asked for his opinion on this and that. They talked about books and people they encountered, sharing knowledge and assessments. She had come to value his input since it was never given hastily or without thought. Last night, though, she had completely forgotten about their meeting, so wrapped up in her own thoughts and emotions that she didn’t even let him know she wasn’t coming. But he hadn’t forgotten. And more so, he had even come to inquire after her. A warm tingle spread through her body that was by now familiar in his presence.

Before she could answer him, Solas added, “And when you didn’t show up for breakfast, I wanted to make sure you are alright.“

"I am," she said and gave him a smile. "Thank you. I apologize for not showing up yesterday. I should have sent word."

Solas returned the smile, but then he looked at her disheveled hair and noted the tiredness around her eyes. His smile wavered, and he straightened before he inclined his head to her.

“I disturbed you. Please forgive my intrusion,” he said formally. Lyssa blinked in surprise at the sudden distance between them, sensing the shift in his mood as he turned to leave. For a second she was confused, but when she looked down, noticing her half-dressed state, she realized that he drew the wrong conclusion about her not showing up last night and this morning.

“Solas,” she called before he had taken more than a step or two and he stopped, turning slightly to look at her with a carefully guarded expression. She tilted her head. Was he jealous?

"So, who else didn't show up this morning?" she asked, and he paused, his gaze embarrassed, confirming her suspicion. As he saw her amused smile, he let out a tiny breath before cleared his throat, quickly straightening into his usual calm posture again.

"Dorian," he confessed, and Lyssa chuckled, shaking her head. Their flirting was infamous and had raised more than a few eyebrows, but she had thought that the purely playful nature of these flirts was known at least in their small inner circle of friends. It seemed she was wrong. Dorian would be so pleased.

Following her instincts, Lyssa opened the door wide, turning slightly with an inviting gesture.

“Would you care to come in? There is something that I wanted to ask you.”

Solas tilted his head, a curious expression in his eyes and, after just the slightest hint of hesitation, nodded. He followed her up the stairs and at her invitation sat down on the couch. His eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to her and Lyssa realized it was the first time he was in here. She didn't need to follow his gaze to know there was not much to be found of her in here. This was still just a room - big and fancy, filled with luxuries that Josephine had insisted on, and barely anything that Lyssa called hers. The conversation with Cole the day before was still fresh in her mind and even if the feelings that had led to it hadn't subsided completely, she was determined to make a conscious effort to change some things.

With a small smile, she sat on the couch next to Solas. He looked at her patiently. His composed, calm presence made her aware just how emotionally raw and tired she still was. She chewed her lip, searching for words and eventually got up again, pacing a few steps before she turned back to him with a helpless gesture.

“I… I don’t really know where to start,” she confessed. “I haven’t gotten much sleep last night.”

Solas furrowed his brow. “Did something happen?” he asked carefully, concern in his eyes.

Lyssa sighed and looked over to the balcony. “In a way, yes.”

Solas didn’t move, but when she looked back at him, she could see the tension in him. He did not press her, just waited for her to continue and she was grateful for it.

“You didn’t hear about my… outburst yesterday?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was researching the oculara until late. What outburst?”

She came back to the couch and sat down, looking at her hands. “I just left the advisors at the wartable, storming about the keep for a while before locking myself in here. Rather silly, really.”

There was no judgement in Solas' face as he asked, “Why?”

“I… It was a bit like that night at the cliff, just worse," she confessed. “Too many eyes, voices, walls. I needed space when there was none to be had. When there never will be much to be had anymore. Ever since they have made me Inquisitor, every decision bears even more weight, and now they are on my shoulders alone. And they are so very different from what I have been trained to do.” She sighed. “A Keeper also bears responsibility for the clan, but there is nothing like this… dance of politics and intrigue. And my advisors don’t seem to understand how absurd some of the things they ask me to do are. It made me feel very alone. But Cole came and talked to me.” A smile flickered over her face. “He helped.”

“He didn’t…” Solas started in a strained voice, but Lyssa quickly shook her head.

“No, no, don’t worry. He didn’t take anything away. He just talked to me, and reminded me that I am not alone here.” She looked up and added with a nervous flutter of her heart, “Not anymore.”

Solas’ looked at her with a softness and an intensity that made her knees weak, and for a long moment, neither of them said a word, the tension between them tangible. It was Lyssa who broke the silence, her heart in her throat.

“I have a favor to ask.”

She could feel the moment when he put his guard up again. A pang of disappointment flashed through her as he deliberately used her title instead of her name.

“Anything, Inquisitor.”

Lyssa took a deep breath. “Would you teach me how to paint?”

This time she had really managed to surprise him, she could see it. He blinked. “How to… paint?”

Lyssa nodded. “I know you can do it. I’ve seen the colors you ordered, the assortment of brushes in your study and the outlines you already finished and I recognize skill when I see it. Would you?”

A strange mix of fondness and sadness flickered across his face as if he was remembering something beautiful but long gone, and then he smiled at her. “May I ask why?”

“Well…" Lyssa pulled her feet up on the couch, making herself more comfortable. “It is something that Cole said yesterday. About me having to bring more of myself into… this.” She gestured at the room but implying more than just it. “And while there are things from home I can add to make at least this room feel more familiar, many are just... unattainable. Bringing them here through a painting seemed like a good idea.”

Solas nodded slowly. “I understand. It is a good idea.”

“So you’ll teach me?"

He smiled, his head tilted ever so slightly in the way he showed only her. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” Lyssa beamed and got up, feeling more energetic already. Solas smiled and stood as well.

“Will I see you tonight?” she asked and he inclined his head to her.

“Of course. I’ll be here. With brushes and paint. But for now, you should try and find some rest.”

Lyssa gave a short, humorless laugh. “Tell that to my advisors,” she said with a sigh. To her surprise, he just raised an eyebrow and answered, “I will. Don’t worry about them. Rest.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, relief flooding her at the thought of having the day all to herself. He smiled and turned to leave. At the stairs, he paused and looked back at her. For a moment she thought he would say something, but then he just inclined his head to her and left.

 


	7. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, that first part? I added it after your excited comments to the last chapter. Couldn’t leave you hanging, could I? ;)

“Like this?”

Lyssa had her lower lip between her teeth in concentration, tilting her head as she looked at the outlines she had put on the wall.

The day had passed in calm and quiet. Solas had kept his word, and shortly after he had left this morning, Josephine had come by. At first, Lyssa had expected a reprimand, but instead, the ambassador had brought breakfast and sat down with her, barely talking about work but telling her to take the day for herself, and would she mind telling her a bit about her family and home? It had taken Lyssa a while to relax into the conversation, but when the morning had passed in nothing but idle and pleasant talk, she had even found she enjoyed herself.

“I’m sorry, Lyssa,” Josephine had eventually said, taking another of the little cakes and sandwiches that had been brought. “We all barely stopped to think about what all of this would be like for someone who has not, as Leliana, Cullen and I, spent their life doing exactly what we’re doing now. Not, of course, working against an ancient magister,” she added with a nervous little laugh, “but being an integral part, if not even head of such an organization.”

“Thank you,” Lyssa had said quietly. For a moment, they had fallen silent, then she had added, “You should have chosen someone else as Inquisitor. I’m not…”

“No, don’t say that,” Josephine had interrupted her, taking her hand in an unusual familiar gesture, warmth in her eyes. “You are the right person and I know you can step up to it. We just have to do a better job of supporting you. But enough of that right now. More tea?”

When the ambassador had left some time around noon, Lyssa no longer felt anxious going back to the war room, but still, Josephine had insisted on her taking the rest of the day off. “Rest,” she had said. “Tomorrow is soon enough to go back to work.”

So she had used the day to do exactly this: rest - and make a list of things she could get into her room to make it feel more like home. When Solas came to her in the evening, as promised with paint and a smile on his face, she was feeling much more like herself again. And more than just a little excited to spend the evening in his company.

“Yes, very good.” Solas stepped up next to her from where he had been working with the colors. For a moment, he studied her work, then he came even closer, his body leaning into hers as his hand indicated a spot on the wall. “If you take this line even further, you can more easily blend the colors beneath. Here, let me show you.”

Lyssa offered him the brush, but instead of taking it from her, Solas laid his hand over hers and guided it towards the wall and she stilled in flustered surprise. Her breath hitched slightly as she felt the warmth from his body directly next to her, nearly close enough to touch. His fingers were cool and firm on hers as he guided her, his voice close to her ear as he explained the technique, but Solas seemed oblivious to the nervous flutter that made her heart speed up as she felt his breath ghost over her skin.

“You see?” Solas asked, and she realized she had barely heard a word he had said.

“Uhm,” she made, blinking at the fresh lines on the wall, heat rising in her cheeks as he guided her hand through another brush stroke. “I…”

A slow smile curled in the corner of his mouth as he looked at her. “Trouble concentrating?” he asked with just a hint of teasing, and the cadence of his voice sent a warm shiver down her back.

“Ir abelas,” she said, turning her head to look at him, furiously thinking of something to say. But her next words were more breathless than intended as she found him closer than expected. “Must be the lack of sleep,” she murmured, her eyes falling to his lips as his smile widened. For just a second, he lingered and her heart made an excited stumble as she saw the way his expression softened as he looked at her. But then, he took a careful step back, the distance between them cool and deliberate.

Was it her imagination or did his fingers caress slightly over her hand as he let go of it?

“I suggest then that we continue tomorrow,” Solas said, and Lyssa nodded quickly, taking a shuddering breath.

“Of course, yes,” she said, looking back at what she had painted so far in a try to compose herself. When she was sure that she would not stumble over her words in nervousness, she turned back to him. “Thank you for doing this for me,” she said softly. “All of today, actually.”

Solas inclined his head to her. “Any time, Inquisitor.”

Lyssa paused and tilted her head, her smile wavering slightly. There it was again, that careful distance he was so prone to put between them. Before she could think better of it, she asked, “Why do you do that?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Do what?”

Her heart was beating nervously, but she did not back down. “Distance yourself. Every time we come close, you take a step back, no longer address me by my name but by one of the titles the humans gave me. Why? Is it me?”

Solas was quiet for a moment, then he shook his head. “No, Lyssa. It is not you.” Something like sadness flickered over his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, then he smiled slightly at her. “I have just been alone for a long time, and making friends does not come easy.”

She took a little step towards him. “Well, you already managed to make one with me,” she said with tenderness. “So there is no need to draw back.”

His smile softened and there was an expression in his eyes she could not quite interpret. “I’ll try to remember that,” he murmured, a heaviness to his voice that made her heart go out to him. For a moment, neither of them said anything, then he reached for her, his thumb brushing softly over her cheek and Lyssa’s eyes widened at the gentle touch, her stomach doing an excited flip.

“A dash of paint,” he said, his smile turning mischievous as he saw her blush, then he pulled back again and took up his brushes and paints. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lyssa.”

Her heart was still pounding as she brought him to the door. “You are a tease, you know,” she said as he stepped outside, and Solas laughed.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his eyes warm. “My friend.”

Lyssa watched him go down the stairs, then slowly closed the door, leaning her forehead against the wood to in a try to cool the heat coursing through her. “Creators,” she murmured. “I am such a lost cause.”

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t expected the painting to help as much as it did in the following weeks. With Solas’ help, she started to fill the wall above the balustrade in her room with colors - deep blue, radiant gold, warm red, soft greens. A softly starlit night sky, rolling hills, outlines of aravel and woods started to cover the rough stones beyond the balustrade.

It was slow going, and she did not nearly manage to find time to paint every night, but as the mural started to take shape over the next few weeks, so did the rest of the room slowly become a place that she felt was hers. Several racks to dry herbs, a table to prepare tinctures and potions, a simpler bed without the Orlesian drapes, Dalish art, books on magic and healing as well as some comfortable chairs and couches made it a place of comfort instead of one of extravagance. With every piece that she added herself and not someone who thought of her as a figure of worship, she felt more at home.

There were evenings when she just sat quietly in the warm light of the fireplace, content to lose herself in the stroke of the brush, the faint shimmer of wet paint on the wall as she added another layer. More often than not, Solas kept her company. Sometimes, he helped her with the painting, sometimes, he worked by himself. The days grew shorter and colder as winter fell over Skyhold, and the need to have a warm haven as the first snowflakes fell over the keep made everyone grow closer together. Even more than the room itself, it was these evenings, spent in familiarity and trusted company that made her think of Skyhold as home.

They had been in Skyhold for nearly two months already when Solas found her in the Herald’s Rest one night. She was sitting with the Chargers who were trying to outdo each other with stories from their missions. The air was filled with the laughter and idle talk of a slow evening, every table filled. Varric sat in a corner and was writing, reading glasses on his nose and a tankard in front of him, radiating peaceful contentment. Sera could be heard from across the room where she howled with laughter from something that Dagna told her. Iron Bull took up his tankard and raised it towards Solas in greeting as the elf entered the tavern.

“Solas! You’re a rare sight here. Come on over!”

Lyssa looked up in delight when she heard his name, but the laughter died on her lips as she saw Solas’ face, and she sat up straighter in worry. She had never seen him so anxious. His eyebrows were furrowed, and a hard line was around his mouth. He gave Bull a short nod.

“Thank you for the invitation, Iron Bull, but I’m afraid I cannot stay. There is an urgent matter I need to discuss with the Inquisitor.”

Solas looked at Lyssa who was already getting up. “Of course,” she said and gave everyone a quick smile. “Please excuse me.”

Bull gave her an inquisitive look as if to ask what was up, and she shrugged slightly as she squeezed out from behind the table. When she walked by him to follow Solas, Bull caught her arm.

“Let me know if I can help,” he murmured. Lyssa nodded, unsurprised that he had caught onto Solas’ mood. Bull had a knack for reading people, even more than she did.

“I will. Thank you, Bull.”

He just nodded and watched her leave as she followed the other mage. She found Solas outside, pacing. Lyssa had already been worried, but this was so unlike him that she suddenly feared the worst.

“Solas,” she said, quickly coming up to him. “What happened?”

There was nothing of his usual calmness within him as he took another few agitated steps. His whole body was tense, and when he turned, his eyes burned as he told her, “One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept.”

Lyssa perked up. “As you slept? So your friend is…”

“It is a spirit of wisdom,” he confirmed, and Lyssa nodded. She knew from Solas’ stories about the spirits he had befriended in the Fade. And from the way he had talked about them, she also knew they were all he had - all that counted for him. They were not just friends to him; they were family. When he had first spoken about them, it had taken her a moment to adjust her way of thinking around it, but since she had become friends with Cole herself, she had come to understand it more and more. Now, she barely batted an eye when Solas spoke of spirits he had befriended.

Solas took a deep breath in a futile try to calm himself. “Unlike the spirits clamoring to enter our world through the rifts, it was dwelling quite happily in the Fade.” He shook his head, and his distress was obvious in his voice. “It was summoned against its will, and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade.”

“Of course,” she assured him, but Solas barely seemed to hear her.

“I do not know what they want with it,” he said angrily, shaking his head and started to pace again. “It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by speaking to it in the Fade!”

“Could they seek information it does not want to give?” Lyssa asked, and he nodded grimly.

“I had the same thought. That would explain why they captured it. I fear they might intend to torture it.”

His hands clenched into fists, and she could see the muscles in his jaw working. Her heart went out for him in sympathy as she saw his distress.

“If you heard it in the Fade… Do you know where we can find your friend?” she asked and he gave a quick nod.

“I got a sense of its location before I awoke. It is somewhere in the Dales.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and he nodded unhappily. The Dales were a two-week trip away, and that was only if the winter weather did not make the roads impassable. Lyssa looked up at the snow-filled clouds in the sky above them and made some quick calculations. If they left as soon as possible and the weather did not worsen, they might make it back just before First Day. Looking back at Solas, she said, “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’ll ask Bull and Cole if they’ll join us.”

She was already starting towards the Herald’s Rest when Solas made a step towards her, and she stopped again.

“So you… you’ll help me?” he asked. There was a mix of surprise and relief in his voice, and Lyssa tilted her head slightly as she turned back to him.

“Of course I will, Solas. Did you really doubt it?”

It was just a flicker on his face, gone nearly as quickly as it had come, but she saw it nonetheless: he had not dared to hope. Lyssa paused.

“Solas, I am your friend,” she said softly. “If you need help, you have but to ask.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, but the shadow on his face did not vanish. He reached for her hand, and when she gave it to him, he held it tightly for a moment.

“Thank you, Lyssa,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. She smiled, then turned to go back into the tavern to talk to Bull and Cole.

 

* * *

 

They made it back before First Day with a few days to spare and a man short.

After they had found Wisdom and dealt with the mages, Solas had left them to grieve alone. Cole had vanished shortly afterwards, probably to help him deal with the pain, which had left her and Bull in a precarious situation. The Orlesian civil war was still raging, and from what they had seen of the battlements, the war between the factions was not the only problem they had. In the distance, they had seen the glow of a village in flames, but with just the two of them and no Inquisition forces to fall back to, there had been no way they could have helped. Lyssa had also found tracks of a Dalish clan, but the hunter she had spotted had vanished from sight immediately, and she did not want to draw too much attention to them by trying to find the camp. Maybe she could seek them out when they came back to deal with the rifts she had felt tugging at her consciousness. She had left a message at one of the spots the clans used for this exact purpose, saying that they could contact the Inquisition if they were ever in need of assistance, but then they had left the Exalted Plains as quickly as possible. The last thing they needed was to get caught in the middle of the various skirmishes. Cole had come back to them after two or three days, but they hadn’t seen anything of Solas in the two weeks of travel back to Skyhold. Lyssa kept hoping he would catch up with them, but she knew that if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t. Neither by them nor by Orlesians. It was a small grace.

The Inquisition banners were fluttering with a sharp, whipping sound in the cold wind that bore the smell of more snow as they made their way through the carts and people on the bridge towards the gate. They had been gone nearly five weeks and even from the distance they could see the improvements that had been made to the keep. The tower where the mages wanted to set up had a new roof, and Lyssa could see workers on another. They had passed the settlement that had started to grow beneath the keep and seen several new shacks that provided at least provisional shelter for the refugees. Inquisition soldiers and mages alike were busy in helping build sturdier houses. A steady stream of people and carts went in and out of the keep, proof of how busy Josephine had been in strengthening their diplomatic ties. Never had it been more obvious that the Inquisition had not only survived the attack on Haven but would come out stronger than before.

“Inquisitor!”

Cullen was the first to see them as they dismounted in the courtyard and hurried over. “It’s good to see you’re back safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” Lyssa smiled tiredly as she handed the reigns of her horse to a stable boy.

“I’ll let Leliana and Josephine know immediately that you’re back. We need to meet as quickly as…” Cullen trailed off as he looked at their small group again. “Where is Solas?”

Lyssa sighed and exchanged a look with Bull. “He separated from us back in the Exalted Plains,” she explained. “We did not manage to save his friend, and he needed time alone.”

The Commander let out a breath. Clearly, he had expected worse. But the frown on his face remained. “So he will no longer work with us?”

Lyssa shrugged, her expression unhappy. “I honestly don’t know,” she confessed. “He said he would meet us back at Skyhold, but…”

Cullen shook his head, clearly not amused by the news. Lyssa could see his mind racing, strategizing and evaluating already, and waved Bull and Cole goodbye as she fell into step next to him. Quickly, they made their way up towards the main hall.

“I see,” Cullen said. “Well, there's nothing we can do now. However, if he does not come back, we need another expert on the Fade. Even if the Breach is closed, there are still many issues that need work. And as you’ll see, we have more than one inquiry not only about direct help with rifts but about theories and speculations that would have fallen under his directive. I’ll talk to Vivienne and Fiona about a possible replacement.”

Lyssa stopped with a dreadful feeling in her stomach, her heart sinking. It was one thing to fear that Solas would not come back, but another entirely to talk about replacing him. Cullen continued for another few steps before he realized she had stayed behind and turned back to her with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.

“Can we give him another few days before deciding that he has indeed abandoned us, and only then start searching for a replacement?” she asked in a small voice. The Commander started to answer, but after a look at her face, he stopped himself. Something in his eyes softened, and he inclined his head.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he answered.

 

In spite of Cullen’s words, there was no thought of looking for a replacement in the near future as Lyssa quickly discovered. Her absence had left several issues unaddressed and the “quick meeting to catch you up” turned into an hours-long council meeting. When she finally stumbled into her quarters in the middle of the night, Lyssa found two stacks of letters and papers on her desk she would have to read and answer. With a yawn, she leafed through one of the stacks and decided on a few of them to read in bed. She quickly undressed and washed before tucking a pillow into her back and snuggling in, the blankets pooling around her. For a moment, she relished the feeling of a warm bed instead of the hard, cold ground and a bedroll beneath her; then she took the letters she had brought and started to read. She did not make it through the first one before she fell asleep, exhaustion and worry having worn her out.


	8. First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I guess? ;)

The next few days were so busy that Lyssa barely had time to worry about Solas. Between reading and answering letters, council meetings and greeting the several dignitaries that had arrived in her absence, there was not much time for anything but eat and sleep. Still, she stopped at his rotunda every night before she went upstairs, if only for a moment. By then, the main hall was already empty, Varric’s desk forlorn, the long tables that were lined up for the communal meals waiting in the light of a few select lanterns for the morning. The rotunda was always completely dark, just a few lights from way above where Leliana cared for her ravens or a lonely scholar roamed the library flickering over the first shapes of the mural Solas was working on. It did not get easier seeing his workplace empty and dark, and knowing that there would be no words exchanged, no reflecting on the day, no smile. The sadness and longing that always filled her at the sight was one reason why she only allowed herself these few seconds of missing him and was only too happy to fill the rest of her days with work. So when Dorian greeted her one morning at breakfast with a cheery “So, honey, any plans on what you’re wearing for the First Day party tonight?”, he caught her utterly by surprise.

“There’s a party?” she asked distracted, barely looking up from the missive she was reading, and he clicked his tongue at her.

“You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed the decorations?”

“What decora - hey!”

Dorian snatched the message out of her hand, and Varric chuckled into his bowl of porridge at the indignation in Lyssa’s face as she finally looked up. Dorian gestured at the hall in a way that spoke more than a thousand words. Only now did she notice the evergreen garlands over the doorways and around pillars and balustrades, the candles and fire bowls. Her lips formed a silent ‘oh,’ and her eyes widened.

“It’s First Day, Lyssa! There will be a banquet tonight, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be expected to be there.” Dorian gave her an exasperated look.

“Oh, that was what Josie was talking about,” Lyssa murmured and pulled a face. Then she reached over to Dorian to get the missive back, but he held it deliberately out of her reach. After a few moments, Lyssa gave up and sank back in her chair. “Dorian, what do you want? I haven’t celebrated First Day in years. It’s a human holiday. Andrastian even, if I look at the few statues they brought in.”

He just shook his head and rolled his eyes, then handed her the missive back. “You’re no fun,” he complained. “Besides, I would have thought the Dalish would appreciate the custom to check on each other the first day of the year.”

Lyssa shot him a glance, but apart from his usual flamboyance, there was no mocking in his manner, and so she sighed. “Well, no. The clans are too far apart to be able to search each other out so often.”

Her friend twirled his mustache and nodded thoughtfully. “I see. In any case, though, you won’t be able to get out of the banquet tonight.” He leaned forward and added with a conspiratorial wink, “And be prepared for a winded, long retelling of your successes this year! The rise of the Herald of Andraste through death and storm to Inquisitor!”

Dorian grinned, but she just groaned. Lyssa put the missive aside and rubbed her hands over her face. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure that Dorian was right. She would have to be there. The thought filled her with dread, but the dignitaries and nobles that had allied with or even joined the Inquisition would expect it. All of it. The celebration, her attendance, the stories. And Josephine would make sure these expectations were fulfilled. The Inquisition was not yet at a point where the ambassador could allow them to miss even one of these events that strengthened existing alliances or forged new ones. Considering that Lyssa had missed some essential meetings because she had been gone for a good five weeks at such an early, crucial point after their arrival here, she would not be able to deny her this. She owed it to Josephine.

 

* * *

 

The day went by in a rush. For once, there were no council meetings since Josie was busy with the preparations for the festivities, and Lyssa enjoyed a quiet day in her room where she worked on reducing the ever-present stack of letters and dispatches that seemed to never stop arriving. Only in the late afternoon, the arrival of a maid who was sent by Josie to help with her appearance reminded her of the celebration. With a sigh, she gave herself into the woman’s care. The dress the ambassador had chosen for her was made of a heavy, dark blue velvet with a ridiculously wide skirt and long sleeves that were a curious contrast to the deep neckline. When the maid was done with her, Lyssa barely recognized herself in the mirror.

She looked like a human noble.

The hair was twisted and braided and pinned in a way that covered most of her forehead and ears, and the maid had powdered her face so her vallaslin were barely visible. She knew the people would love it, the nobles especially.

“Undo it,” Lyssa said in a flat voice, staring at her reflection, and the woman’s smile faltered and died.

“But your Worship, you… don’t like it?” she asked, flinching when the Inquisitor shook her head. Only now did Lyssa realize the human’s unhappiness and she turned towards her with an apologetic gesture.

“I am sorry, Camille. You clearly know what you’re doing and it… it looks great, but… not on me.” She gestured at her hair helplessly. “This is too grand, too elaborate, too…” _human_ , she thought but didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. The unhappiness on the maid’s face turned into understanding, and she nodded quickly.

“Oh! Beg your pardon, your Worship. You’re right, of course. The dress alone will make you stand out. Don’t worry, I already have an idea.”

Camille got to work again, but this time, Lyssa didn’t just sit and wait for her to finish. She found that Camille was only too happy to follow her suggestions, and after a few minutes, the woman lost her shyness and started to tell little stories of her life while she worked. Lyssa learned that she was married and had come with them from Haven, that she lived in the refugee village, and that she and her wife had adopted two little boys that had lost their parents to a demon attack in the Hinterlands.

“I heard that you’re going to come to the village tonight!” Camille beamed while reapplying some of the makeup around Lyssa’s eyes. Lyssa nodded with a smile. When Bull had proposed to take the meaning of the First Day celebration literally and uphold the custom to check on neighbors, family, and friends by taking the celebration down into the refugee village, Lyssa had immediately jumped at the idea. Anything was better than being stuck in a hall with nobility, politics, and diplomacy. And by bringing some of the superfluous luxuries, food and drinks down to the refugees, they did not only get out of the political part of the night, but they also did some actual, tangible good. To everyone’s surprise, Josephine did not only not object to Bull’s plans but clapped excitedly when she heard about it, starting to talk about how this would show the Inquisition as an organization that was benevolent and caring, close to the people.

”We are,” she confirmed. “It is about checking on everyone and making sure they’re alright after all, isn’t it?”

“Still! It’s a high honor, your Worship.” Camille smiled and took a step back, gesturing to the mirror. “What do you say now?”

Lyssa looked back to her reflection and let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Camille. It’s beautiful.”

Her hair was pulled back in several elaborate twists and braids to the back of her head and, from there, tumbled down over her shoulders in open, soft waves, leaving her ears and face free. The powder on her cheeks was gone, leaving her vallaslin prominently visible, and the only makeup left was some khol around her eyes. Now the only thing left to adjust was the dress. She wouldn’t be able to change it, but _Fen’harel take her_ if she couldn’t add something that would give those who preferred to ignore or overlook her elven origin something to chew on.

It didn’t take much. She added the custom layered waist wrap with her clan’s embroidery and put on earrings in a Dalish design, and the effect was instantaneous. When she was satisfied, she took a deep breath and went downstairs to join the celebration.

It was a long night.

Josephine, backed by Vivienne and Leliana, insisted that she should start the celebration from the throne. It was a large, uncomfortable wooden monstrosity with dark red cushions and the Andrastian flame spikes thrusting outwards. Lyssa hated it. Even more, she hated being seated in it and seeing the looks of deference, fear or awe in the faces of the people kneeling in front of it. So far, she hadn’t had to sit judgment over anyone here, but she knew that this was only a matter of time. This night, it was the first time she held it in such an official capacity, and she did not care for it in the least. It left her so utterly exposed that for the first time, she understood the Orlesians’ preference for the masks that hid their features in the political game of theirs. And judging from the big glass of wine that Dorian passed her immediately once she joined the crowd to mingle, it showed. She passed from group to group, from idle talk to inferred messages, desperately trying to stay on top of it. Before the party, she had asked Vivienne to try and find someone who could tell them more about the current situation in the Exalted Plains, and the First Enchanter had quickly found some Orlesians worth of note. Lyssa watched in awe as Madame the Fer unfolded her full skill of maneuvering the conversation exactly where she wanted it to be until Dorian dragged her away under the pretense of putting another glass into her hand.

“Come on,” he said conspiratorially and directed her towards the empty rotunda. “You look like you need a timeout.”

“Thank you,” she murmured and sat down on the couch, gratefully taking the plate of food he had prepared. She hadn’t had much opportunity to eat this evening.

“You’ve caused quite the ruckus with your outfit, you know that, right?” Dorian grinned and raised his glass to her. Lyssa smiled with a shrug.

“Not my problem that they can’t come to terms with their Herald being an elf.”

He chuckled. “True.”

For a moment, a blessed silence fell between them, and Lyssa enjoyed not having to struggle for something to say just for the sake of talking. Her eyes fell on the empty space in the middle of the rotunda where Solas’ desk usually stood. They had put it out of the way, by a wall, and covered it with sheets since it wasn’t possible to deny access to the room that served as an entrance to the upper levels where Vivienne entertained guests with a special view over the main hall.

She wondered how this evening would unfold if Solas were here - a calm presence within all this high-pitched nobility, someone who could analyze from the outside rather than be swarmed by people vying for his favor.

“You miss him,” Dorian stated, and Lyssa looked up, blushing. Her friend just winked at her and took another sip of his wine.

“I do,” she confessed quietly.

“How long has it been now? Three weeks? Do you think he’ll still turn up?” Dorian asked thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the room. “I must confess, even I find his absence somewhat annoying.”

Lyssa chuckled. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t!” her friend exclaimed and amended immediately, “That doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy his company now and then. Arguing about magic and techniques with him is rather entertaining, even though his better-than-thou attitude can get tiring.”

She gave him a look and said pointedly, “Says the Tevinter magister.”

Dorian laughed. “Point taken.”

Lyssa smiled and looked back at the half-finished mural on the wall. “And it’s been nearly four weeks now since he left us in the Plains. I don’t know if he’ll come back. He said he would but…” She swirled the wine in her glass. “There was fighting all over the Plains, there were rifts. And even apart from that, you know very well how dangerous traveling alone as a mage can be. Especially with the Red Templars that have been appearing all over the place.”

Dorian laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Well, if I know anything about our Fade expert, then it’s that he can take care of himself. I’m sure he’ll be back. If only to finish this painting of his.” He nodded towards the wall.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lyssa said without conviction, then she put her empty plate aside and stood up. “Come on. I’m sure Josephine is already wondering where I am.”

Not long afterward, the official part of the evening was finally over and done with, and the party split up and scattered over the whole of the keep and down into the village. Everywhere, bonfires were burning in the night, sparks dancing in the air, mingling with the thick snowflakes that kept falling. Winter had truly come, and an ever-growing white blanket lay over Skyhold. Around the Herald’s Rest, the Chargers had started a snowball fight and the laughter and screeching from those involved echoed through the courtyard. Lyssa quickly left Skyhold behind her and went down into the village, accompanied by several of her companions. A few groups that were led by Josephine and accompanied by servants carrying food and other items followed. Sera was already down there, helping Dagna give out some mechanical toys the dwarf had developed in her free time.

The village also had several fires going, and somewhere, a group of people made music, others danced. Lyssa smiled as she walked between the houses towards the laughter and merriment. This was much more like the festivities she knew, not the carefully groomed amusement from an official gathering. Camille’s words from the afternoon were still fresh in her mind, and she knew that the people here hoped to see her. And so she walked from fire to fire, exchanging a few words here and there, smiling and nodding. And even though she would have preferred just to be a part of everything, at least the people here did not try to wring some favor or promise from her but were happy with just seeing her.

 

When the celebration finally slowed down and she was able to disentangle herself from the remaining crowd to make her way back to Skyhold, it was closer to morning than evening, and she felt drained. As she neared the bridge towards the gates, she could see that there were still people going in small groups or pairs through the courtyard, the shine of the fires golden and warm. She pulled her coat closer around herself as she stopped for a minute. The sounds from Skyhold and the village were equally distant, and she suddenly became aware of the calmness around her. It was such a contrast to the rest of this day, and also the last days, where she had been in near constant companionship or working. Now, there was nobody asking anything from her - not her opinion, not her smile, not her evaluation, not her presence, not her blessing… nothing. She let out a breath, reveling in the feeling of being alone, just by herself, her thoughts just drifting away on the wind that still carried snowflakes.

For a few, blissful minutes, she just stood there, letting the stillness and night sink into her.

It was then that she realized that someone was nearing. Probably someone coming up from the village, she thought and pulled her coat close with a little sigh. Then she looked up, ready to offer her companionship for the rest of the way back to Skyhold, but for a second, she could only stare as she saw who stood there.

When she finally was able to speak again, only one word came, accusation, relief, astonishment, joy, all at once.

“Solas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're interested: [Inspiration for the dress](https://elveny.tumblr.com/post/181383603920/the-fashion-dish-paolo-sebastian-fall-winter) \- here without the Dalish elements of course.


	9. Fade-touched

“Solas.”

For a moment, Lyssa couldn’t do anything but stare in astonishment at the figure before her.

Solas pulled off the hood he wore against the snow and cold wind, his face all sharp angles in the darkness. He still wore his travel clothes, a heavy coat lined with fur and a large shawl wrapped around his shoulders, its tail flapping in the wind. There was surprise on his face and a tentative joy as he looked at her. He clearly hadn’t expected to find her out here.

“Inqui-“, he started, but before he could even finish the word, Lyssa flung her arms around his neck, wild joy and relief coursing through her. His staff clattered to the ground as he caught her, but in this moment, she did not think about keeping her distance, about reserve, or who could see them. All that mattered was that he was here, unharmed. His arms instantly came around her, pulling her against him, and for a long moment, they just held each other.

“You’re back,” she whispered against his neck, her voice thick with emotions and tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I was so worried.” Only now, as he was standing before her, safe and sound, did she realize how much she had feared for the worst, how much she had already prepared herself for never hearing from him again. For another moment, he held her close to him, then his grip around her loosened, and Lyssa took a step back again, suddenly self-conscious.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but he only smiled, a softness around his eyes she hadn’t seen before. She let out a breath and smiled back.

“It is I that has to apologize,” he answered, “I did not mean to worry you.”

“No need,” Lyssa quickly assured him. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

She tilted her head, her eyes wandering over his features, noting the tiredness in him. “Are you, though?” she asked, “Alright, I mean?”

He had, after all, lost his best friend in one of the most horrifying ways there was, and spent several weeks alone.

Solas inclined his head with a little smile and took up his staff. Together, they started to walk towards Skyhold. “I am. Losing Wisdom still hurts. Loss always does. But I will survive.”

Lyssa just nodded in mutual understanding, one hand reaching for his and giving it a quick, sympathetic squeeze before she let go again. She knew loss only too well, herself, after all.

“I wanted to thank you,” Solas added after a moment as they neared the gate. “After… it was over, I was so angry and hurt that I did not think to stop for a moment. I shouldn’t have disappeared, and I apologize for it. But you were a true friend and did all you could to help.”

“Of course,” she murmured, but he stopped and touched her arm to make her turn to him, shaking his head.

“It is not a matter of course, Lyssa,” he said softly. “Please know that I did not see it as such. I am truly grateful for all you did. Not many people in this world would think to help a spirit.”

She shrugged slightly and smiled. “Well, I’m not many people.”

For a second he just looked at her in a way that made her stomach flutter, and she was grateful for the night around them that hid her blush. “You really aren’t,” Solas murmured so quietly that she barely heard it.

The moment stretched, and she looked up at him with bright eyes, a smile on her lips. Just then, a group of people stumbled through the courtyard, howling laughter and cheerful, drunk yelling echoing from the walls. Solas looked after them and chuckled.

“It seems I missed quite the party.”

Lyssa snorted, and they made their way towards the tower, passing several other celebrating groups and one very happy couple half-hidden in an alcove. “Hardly. There was a long, drawn-out, stiff First Day banquet and afterwards, a half-official continuation down in the village. But, granted, that was probably different for those that are not, well, me.”

Solas gave her a sideways look. “You could still join the celebration. The night is not over yet.”

They had reached his room, and Lyssa leaned against the doorframe as she watched Solas put his pack down and take a look around as he took his coat off. “You’re probably right,” she agreed. “But to be honest, I was glad to get out of the fuss. The last few days were… busy.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” Solas said and draped his coat and shawl over a chair.

“It’s alright. It kept me occupied.” After a moment’s pause, Lyssa added a bit more quietly, “I wasn’t sure whether you’d come back.”

He turned back to her. “Neither was I, for a time,” he confessed. “But only for a short time. After everything, I could hardly abandon you now.”

Lyssa smiled at the slight humor in his voice; then she forced herself to push off the doorframe. As much as she wanted to stay, be in his company as long as possible after she had missed him for so long, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. And he had just come back from a dangerous journey alone and was probably glad to finally be able to rest. “I will let you rest,” she said. “Will you tell me more about where you went, tomorrow?”

Solas hesitated for a moment, then he took a step closer to her. “If you would like, I can show you now.” At her surprise, he smiled, albeit a bit sadly. “I visited the Fade and the place where my friend used to be. Would you care to see it?”

Lyssa’s eyes widened in delight. He had told her so often of the wonders he had seen in the Fade, of the places he had visited. As a mage, she was not unused to traveling the Fade herself, but she had never ventured far and rarely beyond her own little pocket that she had formed of her memories and dreams. “I would love to!” she exclaimed, then she quickly added, “But only if you are sure. I can understand if you’d rather make yourself at home again, first.”

He chuckled. “I did offer, did I not? Come.” He made an inviting gesture towards his small couch. Lyssa stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Solas said as she sat down. While he disappeared into the tiny adjacent bathroom, Lyssa unclasped her coat and put it aside, then slipped out of her boots and pulled her feet up on the couch beneath her, looking around curiously. She had never been in his personal quarters before. It was a small room with not much in it. A bed stood half hidden behind a curtain in one corner, a chest of drawers on which several stacks of papers and notebooks lay in another. The small couch on which she sat was next to the only bookshelf in the room that overflowed with books. Several drawings were pinned to the walls, another wall showed the beginnings of a mural, and the floor was covered with thick, comfortable carpets. It smelled faintly like herbs and paint and that warm, heady smell she had come to associate with Solas.

When he came back, he had changed into a fresh tunic and sat down next to her with a warm smile.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked and added, when she nodded, “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” Lyssa said. “I trust you.”

Solas smiled again, then he held up his hand, and Lyssa felt the trickle of magic around them, a warm, heavy feeling laying itself upon her like a blanket. With a sigh, her eyes closed, and her head sank down, coming to rest on his shoulder as she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“This is so very different from what I imagined,” Lyssa said as she followed Solas through the empty streets. A mage light flickered between them, lighting the way. A golden shimmer lay over the stones that lost themselves in the darkness surrounding them. Her voice seemed to echo against unseen buildings beneath the night sky, the air vibrating in its wake. There were no stars, no moon above them, just the endless blackness that seemed to crawl in from all sides, and she hurriedly quickened her steps to get closer to Solas. He seemed unbothered by the emptiness, but she could feel the sadness in him as he stopped next to a toppled wall. The stones seemed ancient, the breaks old and cracked with time, withered moss covering them.

“It is falling apart faster than I anticipated,” he said quietly. His long, delicate fingers wandered over the stone before he looked up again.

“The realm is dying because Wisdom is no longer here?” Lyssa asked, and he nodded slowly. With a gesture, he let the mage light rise higher into the air, but its light did not reach far.

“You should have seen it when Wisdom was still here,” he murmured. “It was warm, golden. A place of calmness and discussion, of learning and introspection.” He walked a few steps until he reached a stairwell that curved its way up into the heavens, disappearing in the blackness as if in a pool.

“Why don’t you show me?” Lyssa asked, and he turned towards her with a slight frown.

“You know why.”

“But this is the Fade. It lives of dreams and memories. Why don’t you show me your memory?”

“This is not some lone part of the Fade that is easily shaped by will and thought,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the dwelling place of a powerful spirit who had lived, and learned, and taught for millennia, everyone who was willing to learn. It is inseparable from Wisdom. Now that Wisdom is no longer… I had hoped it would linger for a bit longer before disappearing.”

“I’m not asking you to shape it,” Lyssa said, laying a hand on his arm and giving him a small smile. “This is not about giving it lasting form. It is a memory. Nothing more.”

For a long time he just looked at her, his gaze inscrutable. She just waited until he gave a sigh and shook his head, a tiny smile in the corner of his lips. His hands came up and held her by the elbows, then he murmured, “Hold on.”

He closed his eyes. For another second, nothing happened, then Lyssa felt the earth beneath her feet vibrate and quickly grabbed his arms. As in a wave, the magic came off him, racing over the stones, and suddenly, a brilliant, golden light was all around them, so bright that Lyssa had to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, she gasped. She let go of Solas and took a few steps towards the edge of the huge amphitheater they were standing at. The steps of the theatre were filled with bookcases which in turn were filled with books, scrolls, papers. The shelves were so tall that lights were floating between them despite the light in the sky. In the air above them, star systems were moving until they lost themselves in the distance. A huge tree towered over one end of the theatre, so tall that she could see buildings in its branches, lit from within, and stairs wounding up its trunk. From somewhere, she could hear the sounds of a waterfall and a flock of bird flew over them. Everywhere, she could see shadows moving and disappearing - walking between the bookshelves, reading, sitting, talking.

“Oh,” Lyssa breathed, her eyes wide as she took everything in, awe written all over her face. “This is beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it!” She beamed at Solas who gave her a smile. As their eyes met, Lyssa paused for a second. He seemed different here, taller, more radiant. It was as if something about him was more at peace, more settled than when he was awake, and suddenly she had no difficulties understanding how he walked with such ease in the Fade. As he moved next to her, she turned back to look around.

In the middle of the theatre, a bright figure sat amongst a group of people. From up here, she couldn’t determine whether they were talking or listening or just sitting there.

“Is that…” she asked, her eyes on the bright figure in the middle.

Solas nodded. “That is Wisdom. Once, its realm was a beacon of learning as you see it now, visited by many, dreamers and spirits alike. And now…”

Lyssa looked up at him, and her heart clenched at the sadness in his eyes. She had never seen him so lost, so sorrowful. Instinctively, she reached for his hand and interlaced her fingers with his in a silent show of sympathy. Solas blinked in surprise, then his fingers tightened around hers, and he gave her a small, grateful smile.

“I wish I knew it back then,” she said. “I am so very sorry.”

“I know,” Solas answered quietly. “Thank you.”

The light changed, and she looked back down into the theatre. One by one, the shadows disappeared, and the light dimmed. Just the bright figure in the middle remained, as night seemed to fall. The tree lost its leaves, withering to a sad, dark skeleton towering in the darkness, and the waterfall stopped, the star systems dimming until they were barely visible anymore. Everything seemed to shrink somewhat as blue bled in from all sides, a few lights still whispering between the structures and books and stars. It was still peaceful, but more lonely, a quietness that was nearly tangible. The only constant was the bright figure in the middle of the amphitheater, even if there were no more listeners around it.

Suddenly, the figure blinked out of existence, and she could feel the whole realm groan as if in pain. She could see the shadows deepen, tinged with red, and the wind carried the echo of screams. A cold shiver ran down her back, and she swallowed.

“Stop it, please,” she said, but Solas shook his head.

“It’s no longer me.” His face was hard, serious as he looked around, but he did not let go of her hand. “The realm is remembering its loss.”

Lyssa stilled as she realized what was happening, the fear falling off her. In silence, she watched, listened, her heart clenching with the knowledge that she was a witness to the slow, agonizing death of that bright, calm creature she had seen. Quiet tears ran down her face as every scream that shuddered through the realm brought another streak of darkness. Bookcases trembled and fell, the lights disappearing one by one. There were no star systems left, the knowledge represented by the libraries and pictures falling to the darkness piece by piece until it just… stopped.

For a moment, just for the duration of a breath, there was peace and quietness, a gasp of relief echoing through everything and the shadows lost their red tinge.

Then, nothing.

The darkness fell around them with a heartbreaking finality, surrounding them thick and tangible, pressing in on them from all sides, as if the sorrow and loss had become reality. Without thinking, Lyssa reached out for something, _anything_ familiar, and the darkness shifted into warmth, as the sun rose behind the mountains around Skyhold.

They were standing on the balcony of her room, the open view clearer than she had ever seen it before. The snow was a glimmering white on the mountains, the sky of a blue that was so deep and wide it felt unreal. It was peaceful and quiet, and the sunshine felt warmer on her skin than was normal at this time of the year. The only thing that felt as solid and real as always was Skyhold, the walls rough and strong beneath her touch.

“That was you,” Lyssa whispered as she turned to Solas. “In the end, that was you as you changed Wisdom back. There was relief and peace. It didn’t die alone.”

Solas didn’t answer, just looked at her with softness and wonder in his eyes. One hand reached towards her, softly brushing over her cheek, wiping the tears away that had streaked her skin.

“You… cried,” he said nearly questioningly. “You cried for my friend.”

Lyssa hadn’t even noticed, and self-consciously, she wiped her other cheek with a nod. Solas’s fingers were still on her cheek, and his eyes were transfixed on her. The wind had stopped, and for a moment, everything seemed to hold its breath. His voice was hushed, its cadence sending a shiver down her back.

“Dalathin,” he murmured with a smile, moving nearly imperceptibly towards her, and she held her breath, her heart racing.

But just when she was sure he would kiss her… he stopped. She could feel the tension between them sizzling in the air, could feel his breath on her skin. Her heart was beating hard as she laid her hand on his where it still touched her face, nestling her cheek into his palm. He stilled at the touch, his breath catching in his throat when she looked up at him again. But he no longer moved towards her, and Lyssa more felt than saw the moment when he hesitated. Before her courage left her, she reached for him, careful to give him the space to draw back as her hand touched his neck softly to draw him closer.

Her kiss was soft, a warm touch of her lips against his, and she could feel him still beneath her caress. It was an offer, a promise, and after a tender moment, she pulled back. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed, and her fingertips brushed over the skin on his neck, sending a shiver through him. Solas looked at her with wide eyes, still not moving, his hand still on her cheek. But when she gave him a tentative smile, it was as if the last of his self-restraint just fell away.

With a sound that made her breathless, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a passion that kindled a flame inside her she had nearly forgotten was there. His arms held her close to him, his body moving against hers with a strength and self-confidence that made her gasp against his lips, and Solas took the opportunity as they opened beneath his to deepen the kiss. All the tension she had felt between them seemed to unload itself in the kiss, and she lost herself in his touch, his lips and tongue, and breath. With a little groan, he pulled her more firmly against him, pressing his lips on hers with an intensity and urgency that made her forget everything beyond this moment, this kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body flush against his.

Just then, she felt him draw back. For a second, she was unwilling to break the kiss, to lose this connection but his hands wandered to her upper arms, holding her as he pulled back. She blinked confused, her heart still beating fast.

“Wait,” he whispered, laying his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. A shadow fell over them as a cloud moved in front of the sun, and he took a careful step backwards, letting go of her. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Lyssa looked at him, a feeling of apprehension rising in her at the look in his eyes. She could still feel the heat from the kiss, from his touches tingling through her body, and she could see that he was far from unaffected as well, but there was also something close to fear in his features as he put a deliberate distance between them.

“Solas? What is it?” she asked, instinctively reaching for him, but he held up a hand, sorrow, and regret in his eyes. He took a deep breath and shook his head, a cool determination coming on his features.

Lyssa took a step backward, suddenly feeling cold. “You regret it,” she stated tonelessly, and his eyes snapped to hers, seeing the pain in them.

“No,” he said immediately. After the slightest hesitation, he added, “but…”

“Ah,” Lyssa interrupted, “If you didn’t regret it, there would be no ‘but’.”

Solas took a step towards her. “Lyssa, this isn’t regret, I promise. But -“

Again, she interrupted him, this time by laying a finger on his lips. “Not here,” she said and -

 

 

\- opened her eyes.

She could feel the moment that he woke as well, his chest rising with the deep breath he took. Her head was still resting against his shoulder, and it took her a moment to gather her bearings. Then she sat up, rubbing a hand over her face, a mix of tiredness and deep sadness rushing through her. When she turned back to Solas, he looked at her with a calmness that was close to unnerving. He was so close that she thought she could feel the ghost of a touch where he had held her in the dream. She felt vulnerable in the silence that stretched between them, but still, she waited for him to talk, to explain.

“It’s not regret,” he finally repeated very quietly.

“If not regret, what is it?” she asked helplessly. “Please tell me if it’s just a… fancy, a meaningless -“

Before she could finish the sentence, Solas shifted forward and kissed her again, a slow, insistent warmth against her lips. The heat and passion of the kisses in the Fade was still tangible, but he kept it soft, with just a flicker of his tongue against hers as she melted into his embrace with a soundless sigh. It was not the same kiss, not one that instantly set her whole body aflame with desire, but it was tender and warm and _real_. After a long moment, they parted.

“So it’s not just a Fade-thing,” Lyssa murmured eventually.

“No, it’s not,” he confessed after taking a deep breath. “And it is anything but meaningless.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. “From the moment I saw you, you defied everything that I thought to be true,” he murmured. “You fought, and you survived, against all odds. You sealed the rift with a mere gesture where everything else had failed. You offered apologies where others offended, you reached out where others drew back.” There was wonder in his eyes as they wandered over her face as if to take in every detail and Lyssa could feel her cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. He smiled as he saw her blush. “You change everything,” he murmured, his hand reaching towards her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Then his hand sank down again, and a shadow came on Solas’ face, a sadness and longing in his eyes she hadn’t expected, before he seemed to collect himself. “But… it’s been a long time. And things have always been easier for me in the Fade.”

Lyssa could see that there was more he didn’t say and just waited. After a few moments, he added, “I’m not sure this is the best idea. It could lead to... trouble.”

She looked down on her hands she had clasped in her lap, silent. He was right, of course. She was no longer just someone who could chase after the things she wanted. And by the Creators, she wanted him. For a second, she allowed herself to feel the regret, the pain, then she nodded, trying to push her feelings back down again. “Of course,” she said somewhat formally. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have... assumed.”

As his long, cool fingers touched her hand carefully, she looked up again. His thumb ran over her palm and sent a shiver over her body, and she tilted her head questioningly, unsure of what to think.

“Don’t apologize,” he said quietly with a shake of his head and his eyes burned into hers with intensity. “Not for this.”

Lyssa took a breath. “I just thought…” she started, then she shook her head, closing her eyes again. I didn’t matter. Even though she now knew that her instincts had been right, that he felt something for her, too, there was obviously a discrepancy in their feelings. But then again, she was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, a figurehead of the Chantry, whether she wanted it or not. Being with her, loving her would never be as easy as being with anyone else. She could even understand his hesitation. “Never mind. I… I would have been willing to take the risk for trouble, but if you don’t feel the same, I was obviously-“

“Lyssa.” The softness in his voice made her stop, and she looked back up. His fingers around her hand tightened, and for once, the mask of carefully maintained distance was completely gone, his face full of emotion the intensity of which made her heart stumble.

“My feelings for you are not what is in question,” he said softly, and the hope, the helpless joy that crashed over her took her breath away. Still, she forced herself not to move, her voice barely audible as she asked, “Then what is?”

The moment of silence that stretched between them was full of unspoken words and secrets, and he shook his head slightly. “Nothing that has a place here.” Before she could interject, he added, “I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But there are… considerations.” He looked at her pleadingly. “I need time to think. Please. Can you give me time?”

His voice was dark with emotion, and as she looked at him, it was as if she could feel the connection between them on a physical level. Somewhere, there was that which was untold, but as she looked into his eyes, for once openly showing her what she needed to see, something in her softened. There was no person without their secrets. And if he said that his had no place here, she chose to believe him. Lyssa sat up, taking a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said simply, and the smile on his face woke a warm tingle in her stomach.

“Thank you,” he breathed, making her smile as well.

She stood up and slipped into her shoes, taking her coat before she turned back to him. He stood as well, his eyes following her movements in silence. She reached up to touch his face in a soft caress.

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, and Lyssa smiled as she walked to the door. Before she went outside, she turned back to him, adding, “Welcome back.”

Then she left, passing the rest of the celebration on her way back to her room, a swirl of emotions inside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to hear what you think - and I do hope you liked their first kiss ❤️


	10. Sparks in the Night

They settled back into a familiar routine in the days after Solas’ return. He calmly went back to his duties, diligently working on the requests and letters that had accumulated on his work desk, and Cullen let out a breath of relief at not having to search for a substitute. In the evenings, Lyssa searched Solas’ proximity, both for just being near him and for hearing his advice on their plans.

It was a strange situation; warm and full of looks and little touches on the one hand, and a deliberate distance on the other. Lyssa didn’t want to impose on him. She had made the first step; now she could only wait for his decision. But when a week went by, then another, and another without any indication that Solas had come to a conclusion, she started to lose hope.

And yet, there were the moments when she found him looking at her with such longing and tenderness that it took her breath away. Some evenings, he looked as if he wanted to say something only to think better of it, and eventually, Lyssa resigned herself to be content with the emotional closeness they had had all along.

Guardian came along, and Skyhold celebrated Wintersend with Lyssa being asked to bless several couples who married that day. Reluctantly, she spoke a few words to them but vehemently refused to take part in the Chantry service that took place during that day and instead busied herself with packing for a resupply and diplomacy trip to Redcliffe. When she came into Solas’ rotunda that evening, he looked up from his work with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Still avoiding Josephine?”

Lyssa shrugged with a guilty smile. “Maybe?” She perched on his desk. “But mainly, I wanted to ask you whether you’d accompany me to Redcliffe. I know you’ve only been back a month, but…”  _ I’m not ready to leave your company so soon again _ , she thought but didn’t say it out loud.  Something of her thoughts seemed to have shown on her face, though, for Solas looked at her with that tenderness that always made her smile a bit brighter.

“Of course I will,” he said, inclining his head and she beamed.

“Thank you! Blackwall will be coming, too, and Dorian as well.” With a wink, she spoke up so that her voice carried to the level above where she knew her friend was sitting. “Dorian missed you quite a lot while you were gone, he told me so himself.”

“I certainly did not!” came Dorian’s indignant voice down from the library, and she chuckled. The corner of Solas’ mouth twitched, and he gave Lyssa a conspiratorial look. 

“Well, then I will make sure to keep close to him on our trip,” he said loud enough for Dorian to hear. “I’m looking forward to invigorating discussions.” The unmistakably annoyed sound from above them made them both laugh. Lyssa slid down from the desk again, touching Solas’ shoulder as she walked by him, a warm shiver going through her when he reached up to touch her hand in return.

“See you tomorrow, Solas,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

The trip gave her the respite Lyssa so badly needed from the inquisitorial duties that swamped her in Skyhold. The first sprouts of green and some early spring flowers greeted them when they left the mountains for the Hinterlands, and the three men in her company seemed just as happy to return to the familiarity of traveling with each other. 

But while the journey to Redcliffe was nothing but pleasant and calm, their luck ran out on the way back.

They were just making camp when a Venatori group with a rather powerful mage and several mercenaries surprised them. The fight was hard, and while they kept the upper hand, it had been a close call, and none of them were spared injury. The night was already falling when they had cleared the campsite and tended to their wounds.

“I’m telling you, it is nothing!” Dorian exclaimed even though his usually so carefully composed face was distorted with pain. Lyssa shook her head, gesturing at his leg and the trousers that were widely stained with blood, the cloth dark and wet, clinging to his skin.

“Dorian, your whole leg is full of blood, and you cannot stand up, it is  _ not _ nothing. Now stop being a baby and take off your trousers so I can reach that wound!”

“No,” he flat-out refused, and Lyssa threw her hands in the air with an exasperated sound. She was at her wit’s end. She had dealt with many difficult patients in her time, but nobody who had just flat out refused to allow her to dress a simple wound. She looked at Dorian with thinly veiled irritation in her eyes.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” she asked and he grabbed another bandage to put on top the one he already had wrapped around his leg and which had bled through completely.

“I don’t need your help," he said stubbornly. When Solas came over to stand next to Lyssa after having tended to Blackwall’s wounds, Dorian gave him a defiant look, continuing to wrap his leg.

“Difficult patient?" Solas asked with a raised eyebrow, ignoring Dorian’s scoff at his words.

“The worst," Lyssa mumbled, “what about yours?”

“Sleeping it off," he answered and nodded towards the tent where Blackwall had retired to. The Warden had been hit by a powerful shield bash, and judging by the way he had crashed into a tree, Lyssa suspected he would have to deal with headaches for another few days. 

Dorian had had it worst, taking a blow to the leg which could have just as easily cost him his leg or even life had the attacker aimed a tiny bit more to the left. But even so - if he wouldn’t let her treat and properly bandage it, chances were he wouldn’t be able to use the leg for quite a while... or worse. She decided to give it another try.

“Dorian, come on, this isn’t working as you must see?" she gestured at the bandage he pressed against the cut in his upper thigh. “Please let me help you?”

“Alright," Dorian finally conceded after watching the blood seep through the new bandages, raising his chin. He was decidedly green around the nose and the pain was very palpable on his face. “But turn around while I undress.”

Lyssa blinked. “That’s it? You don’t want me to -”

“Yes, yes, now turn around.” There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

With a shake of her head, Lyssa turned her back to Dorian. The over-the-top modesty of the humans in her company never ceased to amaze her. They were living so closely together, sharing a camp, hearing each other snore or dream (or doing other things) in their tents and yet, when it came to naked skin, most went to ridiculous amounts of trouble just to make sure nobody saw too much.

“Seriously, Dorian," she said over her shoulder, “it’s not like you’re the first man I’ve seen naked or as if I wanted to get into your pants.”

“Really. I do remember quite vividly how you insisted on me taking them off for the last half hour," came the dry reply from Dorian, only interrupted by a sharp intake of breath. The sounds of pain he made as he tried to pull the trousers off were nearly unbearable to her and she looked at Solas pleadingly - Dorian hadn’t objected to him, so she thought it was a safe bet to ask him to help Dorian. And indeed, no protest came as the elf gave him a hand.

“Alright, I do. But not in  _ that _ way," she said, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “It kind of would be the worst way to try it, honestly," she added somewhat drily. For a second, nobody said anything, then Dorian remarked with an undertone that was full of mischief, “One cannot help but wonder how you would try to get into my pants  _ that _ way.”

“You’ll see when it comes to it," Lyssa said absent-mindedly and only realized what she had said when Solas casually asked, “Will he now?”

Lyssa was horrified, blushing deeply. Hastily, she tried to smooth the comment over. “That - that’s not what I meant! I would never try to - not with you, Dorian!”

“Really," Dorian nearly scoffed, amusement in his voice, “I feel like I should be offended now.”

Solas agreed, “You totally should.”

Lyssa groaned and could just barely keep herself from turning around. She felt strangely cut off without being able to see their faces to discern their actual mood. “No! I didn’t - I mean, it’s not that you aren’t… Oh Creators, I’m not going to get out of this, am I?”

She buried her burning face in her hands while the men behind her laughed in a rare show of camaraderie.

“You really aren’t," Dorian called, obviously delighted. “And you can turn around now.”

“Finally," she murmured, pointedly ignoring them both as she tended to Dorian’s wound. But when she met Solas’ eyes, there was a sparkle in them and a smile playing in the corner of his mouth. He ever so slightly nodded at her and left them as she finished dressing the wound. Despite his pallor, Dorian grinned from ear to ear as he saw Lyssa blushing, but she ignored him.

When she helped Dorian into his tent afterward, her friend gave her a look that was more serious than she anticipated.

“You really should, though," he said. She looked at him questioningly, and he added, “Try to get into Solas’ pants  _ that _ way.”

Lyssa felt her ears turn red again and didn’t answer immediately. Dorian laughed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it! Every imbecile can see you have feelings for him. And by now I’m nearly absolutely certain he has feelings for you as well. I mean, you spend nearly every evening with each other anyway, why not take it that bit further? Plus, you could both use it to unwind.”

Lyssa looked at him and smiled slightly when she saw that there was worry behind his words. “There are other ways to unwind, you know,” she said pointedly. Dorian made a dismissive gesture.

“But none that much fun! Ouch.” He drew in a sharp breath as he lay down on his bedroll. Lyssa carefully arranged the blanket beneath his leg a bit more comfortably before she answered softly, “It’s out of my hands, Dorian.”

He immediately pushed himself up again, all ears. “What! Why? What did you do?”

“I kissed him," she said with a small smile and shrugged, not looking at him. “And he kissed me back. But afterward, he said he needed time to think.”

Dorian groaned and nearly comically put his hand to his forehead. “The gall! That is ridiculous. Make him.”

Lyssa raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. “Make him? Make him do what? Bed me?”

“Yes!" he exclaimed, but when he met her eyes, he shook his head and immediately added, “No. No, of course not. That would definitely take it too far. Can't have the Inquisitor order people to her bed, Josephine would kill me for just suggesting it. There must be another way. I’ll think of one - as soon as I can think again.”

This time, his groan held an edge of pain and Lyssa gave him the cup with a potion that would both make him sleep and keep the pain at bay. “Here. That’ll help.”

“Thank you," he said and downed the cup with one swig, telling Lyssa just in how much pain he was. Then he sank back onto his bedroll. “But I promise. I’ll think of something.” His words were already slurred, and Lyssa smiled as he closed his eyes.

“Thank you, my friend," she whispered even though she knew he could no longer hear her, then she left his tent to let him sleep.

 

When she came outside, she was surprised to see Solas still sitting at the fire. She had expected him to retire as well since she had taken the first watch, but it seemed like he had been content with taking off his armor, returning to the fire to keep her company. Night had fallen completely while they had erected the tents and tended to Blackwall and Dorian’s wounds. For a moment, she watched him, transfixed by the way the warm shine of the flames played over his face and bare arms, sharpening the shadows and easing the lines that formed his features. Where he so often seemed untouchable with a nearly regal air about him, there was something vulnerable and soft in him as he looked into the flames. His eyes were dark against the red and orange flicker of fire, his face calm and relaxed. Her heart clenched in a sudden surge of warmth and desire as she looked at him, and for a moment, she was surprised by her own strong reaction, letting out a breath. Maybe Dorian was right - it had been too long since she had shared a bed with someone. Since she had felt the urge to do so. The last few weeks had just heightened her awareness of the tension between her and Solas. The promise of passion, of more than their careful gestures and heady looks, was too often tangible between them. 

With silent steps, she walked over to him, and he looked up, offering her a smile as he passed her a plate with bread, cheese, and some sliced vegetables from their supply. “Oh, thank you,” Lyssa sighed as she sat down next to him, realizing how hungry she was. For a moment they just ate in comfortable silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees. Despite the constant awareness of his presence next to her, she quickly fell into the easiness and habit of a slow, quiet evening at the fire. There was something so familiar about this that she would’ve been hard pressed not to find calmness in the way they shared a meal at a fire after a long hard day of travel, despite the exhaustion the day had brought with it. 

When she was finished, she put the plate away, reaching towards the warm flames with a tired sigh and started taking off her leather jerkin, shrugging out of the heavy armor piece. She had already removed her gloves, shawl, and the pauldrons before taking care of Dorian, and put the jerkin next to them, knowing she would have to put them on again as soon as she was alone and the watch would truly begin. But for now, she just enjoyed the feeling of unhindered movement in her chemise that fell loosely around her. She stretched but stopped abruptly with a strained sound as she noticed yet another painful bruise on her side where one of the Venatori’s spells had hit her. All in all, she had been lucky, however. Apart from a painful cut on one forearm and a laceration on her cheek where she had taken a blow to the face, the only injuries she had received were bruises.

“Everything alright? Do you need help?” Solas asked at her sharp intake of breath. She shook her head, running a hand over the black-blue spot beneath the shirt, the bluish glow of healing magic cool on her skin, easing the pain immediately. Lyssa felt exhausted and sore all over, her muscles stiff and tired, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. “No, thank you. Just a bit sore from the fight. What about you?”

She looked over to him, but he seemed as unperturbed as ever, calm and composed as if they hadn’t just barely survived a fight a few hours ago. “How is your arm?” she added and he looked at where she had bandaged the wound that a poorly aimed arrow had left, flexing the muscles carefully. 

“Nothing that I’ll still feel in a few days. Don’t worry.” 

“Good,” she smiled and let her head sink forward, bringing one hand to her neck to massage the tense muscles with a tired sigh. 

“Here. Let me,” Solas said, moving closer. Lyssa stopped and looked at him over her shoulder in surprise. He was as calm as always, but when he smiled slightly, her heart stumbled nervously. He met her gaze levelly, his head slightly tilted as he waited until she nodded. Then he settled down behind her, close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body but not close enough to touch. Instinctively, Lyssa sat up a bit more upright, biting her lip as the butterflies in her stomach went wild when he brought his hands to her shoulders. His cool fingers moved skillfully over the hard knots, kneading and massaging. For a few minutes, she just enjoyed the feeling of relaxation that slowly spread through her as the cramped muscles started to loosen, even though the intimacy of his touch kept the nervousness inside her alive. Despite the closeness that had grown between them, touches were few and treasured. Thus, she didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. Feeling him so close to her made her heart beat faster. The careful distance he was so prone to put between them was suddenly gone, and Lyssa found herself wondering,  _ hoping _ if he had finally decided that whatever reason he told himself was more important than the obvious mutual affection between them wasn’t that important after all.

But when he spoke, it was not what she had anticipated. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Solas said, and she turned her head slightly.

“Hm?” she murmured.

After another moment of thoughtful silence, he asked, “How were you like before the Anchor? Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?”

Lyssa opened her eyes, blinking thoughtfully as she looked down on her hand, then she shook her head. “No, it hasn’t. Why should it?”

He didn’t stop working on her shoulders and neck as he answered in a strangely strained voice, “It is magic of a kind nobody has seen before.”

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve come into contact with strong magic,” she retorted, furrowing her brow, unsure what it was that he was trying to get to.

“I don’t doubt it. But it has become a part of you.”

That made her pause for a second, thinking, and Solas’ hands stilled on her skin.

“True,” Lyssa conceded eventually, “but then again, it hasn’t changed how I wield magic, apart from closing the rifts. And I couldn’t even tell you exactly how it works - it is more a reaction of the Anchor with the rifts that I can activate, not something intrinsically tied to my being. In that sense, the Anchor is still separate from me, even if it has become a part of my body. But I am who I’ve always been.” She turned slightly, looking at him, trying to read his feelings. Her heart made a nervous flutter as she saw the seriousness on his face, his eyes fixed on her even as he seemed lost in thought. Had he felt or seen something she hadn’t? Or had he found something in his studies that should worry her? But then why bring it up now?

“Why do you ask?” she inquired, unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice. ”Are you losing faith in me after all?”

“No. On the contrary,” he murmured. He gave her a smile, then he nudged her to turn back towards the fire so he could continue the massage. She waited for him to say something else, but Solas just quietly and efficiently worked on loosening the tension in her muscles. After a few seconds, she decided to just enjoy the moment, closing her eyes with a content sigh as her body relaxed and she lost herself to his touch. It was only when she felt his chest against her back that she realized she had melted back into his embrace without even meaning to. Her eyes opened again as she felt the hands on her shoulders pause again, and for a second, she was unsure whether she should move away. But then he continued his ministrations, seemingly unaware of the little hitch in her breath as he slightly adjusted his seat so she could lean back into him more comfortably.

An approving sigh came from her lips as his touches got softer, eliciting goosebumps as his fingertips trailed slowly along the exposed skin beneath her collar and up her neck. Her breath caught in her throat as the caress found the spot beneath her ear, wandering along the line of her hair, causing a shiver to run over her body. She did not dare say anything for fear of disturbing the moment, which might just lead to her losing this precious closeness and that alluring tingle his touch elicited. The only sound between them was the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the night. The tension between them was tangible, and warmth seemed to spread from where he touched her through her whole body. She tilted her head invitingly and felt him take a deep breath, his heart beating hard where his chest was pressed against her back. The whirlwind of nervousness and excitement deep within her got stronger, curling tightly in her belly as she realized he was just as affected by their closeness as she was. For a second, she could feel his breath ghost over her, hinting at a kiss that never came, his lips just a hairsbreadth above her skin. His hands stilled again on her shoulders where her shirt had slipped down enough to reveal most of them, his touch light upon her skin.

“Ah, vhenan,” his voice was barely a whisper against her ear, “you test me.” Another deep breath, then he pulled the seams of her shirt back over her shoulders, covering the exposed skin. Lyssa let out a shuddering breath herself, her body aflame with the need for more - more closeness, more touches - and when he so carefully retreated, she keenly felt the cold against her back where he no longer shielded her with his body. For a few moments, she didn’t move, trying to collect herself, her heart beating nearly painfully hard.

“I should leave you alone,” Solas murmured and started to stand up. Lyssa turned to watch, and for a second, their eyes met. The way his gaze burned into hers, pure longing in them, did nothing to ease the turmoil inside her. Before he could turn to leave, she stood as well, and Solas paused, his mask of calmness not yet in place again. She made no move towards him, just stood and looked at him.

“Vhenan?” she asked softly.

He had called her  _ vhenan _ , an endearment so familiar that it touched her to the very core. It was a word reserved for those dearest to one’s heart, never used idly. But he had used it for her.

Solas blinked and drew in a sharp breath, emotions flickering over his face as if he only now realized what he had said. For a long moment, neither moved, then he took a step towards her, and another as if drawn on invisible strings until he stood directly in front of her, cupping her face in both hands. Lyssa was transfixed by his eyes, her hands coming up to carefully rest upon his hips, her heart beating quickly. There was gentleness in his face but a struggle as well, as his gaze wandered over her face, following the trail of his fingertips along her cheeks, jaw, ears. Still, she did not move, even when his thumb grazed over her lips, coaxing them to part slightly. There was longing in his eyes, in his touch, but also something she could not quite interpret, something that looked close to fear. She watched the two emotions struggle on his face, waiting. This would have to be his decision. She had reached out to him when she had kissed him a few weeks back, but she would not coax him into something he did not want. But more than that, she had too many feelings for him to dare go too far, to risk pushing him.

His eyes came back to hers as he lovingly wiped a strand of hair back from her face, and she could see a decision form, a battle with self-restraint, with doubt, being lost. When he looked at her again, she could see the surrender in his eyes. His hand wandered from her face into her neck, curling slightly in the locks that had come free from her braids and sending another shiver down her spine. Lyssa looked up at him with flushed cheeks as he pulled her closer with his other hand and her hands wandered to the small of his back, a careful touch. A slow smile spread over his lips that softened the seriousness in his eyes.

“Vhenan,” he repeated, and his voice was heavy, thick with emotion even though it was barely more than a whisper. His breath ghosted over her lips, sweet and luring, a promise of a kiss and yet not touching. Lyssa could feel the tension, the need for his touch like a ball of flames swirling in her midst but when she inched closer, he drew back, just far enough to stay out of reach. A sound escaped her that was both frustrated and pleading, and she could see the flash in his eyes as if he had only waited for something like this. And then he was finally kissing her. 

There was heat in the way he pressed his lips on hers, his arms pulling her flush against him in the most  _ wonderful _ way as his hand in her neck angled her head, but they both held back, drawing the moment out. Drinking each others’ breath, tongues teasing, lips luring.

It was different than their kiss in the Fade and also the one afterward, more real and full of meaning, and Lyssa felt as if she would burst any minute from the wave of happiness that went through her at his caresses.  _ Finally _ . 

When they parted, she could feel his heart beat hard beneath her hand that rested on his chest. Lyssa took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm the storm of desire and happiness inside her as their eyes met. Solas looked at her with tenderness and warmth in his eyes, a slow smile on his lips that made him seem younger, softer, and she caressed his cheek.

“Ma himas garahnen,” he murmured, and Lyssa gave him an answering bright smile, tilting her head.

“So does this mean…?” she asked, her voice barely more than a hum and he laughed softly.

“I thought I made myself quite clear.”

“I want to hear you say it,” she said, and he looked at her for the longest moment, before he put his hand on her cheek, his eyes burning into hers with unhinged emotion. “I want to be with you. Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

For a second, she was speechless at the declaration, nearly shocked. After his initial hesitation, she had not expected to hear these words in the near future, had hoped for a try at a more intimate relationship at most - and got unrestrained, open emotions instead, proving to her that his reaction after their first kiss had indeed had nothing to do with a lack of feelings for her. The realization brought tears to her eyes as a mix of relief and happiness welled up in her.

“Ar lath ma,” she whispered. And then her lips were on his again, her kisses telling him her love more clearly than words ever could, and he responded in kind, the world falling away as they lost themselves in each other’s embrace. He held her lower lip between his, carefully nipping before he let her go again, his mouth wandering over her jaw to her neck, her ear, placing featherlight kisses upon her skin. She could feel him smile against her neck as she hummed her approval, her hands wandering over the muscles of his back. The answering groan that rumbled in his throat coaxed a delighted sigh of her, and then his hand was in her neck, pulling her in for another kiss, his mouth demanding and passionate upon hers. His other hand had wandered to her waist, still holding her against him, keeping the heat between them as his fingers teased at the hem of her shirt, not yet daring to venture beneath to find bare skin. A small groan escaped him as she answered in kind, her arm coming around his neck, nails carefully scraping over his scalp as she drew him closer, teasing, tasting. For wonderful, endless moments she indulged herself, losing herself in his touch, little sighs and hitched breaths the only sounds disrupting their kisses. As if in unspoken agreement they eventually parted with an effort, both breathing more quickly. For a second, they just held each other close, foreheads touching.

“I really wish we were somewhere else right now,” Lyssa sighed, her hands wandering over his bare arms. Not only the presence of two of their companions just behind a thin tent canvas but also the knowledge that they were far from being in a safe place was too clearly in her mind. Solas smiled, his hands on her waist tightening slightly.

“It seems as if we both are being tested tonight,” he said, and she laughed. “Indeed.”

She looked up at him with still flushed cheeks and with a regretful sigh she murmured, “I still have a watch to finish. And considering what we found this afternoon, I’d better do that… without distractions.”

“So I am a distraction, am I?” Solas asked, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Instead of an answer, she slightly moved her hips where they were pressed against him, giving him a pointed look as it elicited a sharp intake of breath in him. He laughed quietly. “Point taken.”

Slowly, they untangled, and Solas sat down again at the fire, watching as Lyssa went over to where her armor lay and put it on again, her breath only slowly finding back to its normal rhythm. She was aware of every look, feeling his gaze upon her, and as she looked over, a smile was on his face that made her whole body tingle with happiness.

“You are aware that you have second watch?” she asked, shrugging back into her jerkin, “I doubt we can rely on either Dorian or Blackwall tonight. Shouldn’t you try to get some sleep while you can?”

But he just shook his head. “I prefer to keep you company.” After a second, he added, “Even without distractions.”

She just raised her eyebrows, and he laughed. “Ar dir'vhen'an.”

Lyssa gave him a look from narrowed eyes, but he just smiled, offering his hand to her and after a moment, she laid her hand into his and settled down into his arm to begin her watch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vhenan / Ma vhenan - Heart / my heart  
> Ma himas garahnen - You change everything  
> Ar lath ma - I love you  
> Ar dir’vhen’an - I promise


	11. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ;)

“Don’t worry, Inquisitor, we’ve got him. He will be fine. You should go and rest yourself.”

The healer gave Lyssa a nod and turned back into the infirmary where they were tending to Dorian. His wound had gotten infected on their way back, but there had been so many signs of Venatori that they didn’t dare extend their rests beyond the necessary stops for the night. And stubborn as he was, he had not let them pause too often on his account and not mentioned anything about feeling unwell, so when Lyssa had changed the bandages and seen the infection, he had already been feverish. She had spent the last part of their journey sharing a horse with him and continuously channeling her healing magic into him to keep the infection at bay until they reached Skyhold where he could be properly treated.

Lyssa let out a sigh as she turned to leave.

“You look exhausted, boss,” Bull remarked, and she nodded as they walked over the courtyard. He had helped carry Dorian to the infirmary.

Lyssa gave him a smile and nodded. “I am. But it’s just tiredness. Otherwise, I’m fine; no need to worry.”

It was true. She was tired to the bone, and she worried about Dorian of course, but apart from that, there was that excited, happy tingle within her that flared up every time she thought about the night a few days ago. About the way Solas’ lips had felt against hers, about his hands on her body as he pulled her closer.  _ Vhenan _ .

They didn’t have a chance to actually spend time with each other in the last days. Between trying to make good time on their way back to Skyhold, caring for Blackwall and Dorian, and evading two more Venatori groups, there hadn’t been a chance to share more than a touch or a stolen, quick kiss in one of the rare moment that they had been alone. Now that they were back at Skyhold… her heart did an excited flip at the thought of having actual privacy and a few hours just to themselves.

But until that was possible, there was still some work to be done.

“There was a Venatori group lying in wait for us,” she answered Bull’s unspoken question. “And we evaded two more. It might be nothing, but it feels like something is up. Cullen, Leliana and Josie will want an update,” she said, looking at the big walls of Skyhold with a little sigh, “I’ll bring you and the rest up to speed tomorrow, alright?”

“You got it, boss. If there is something up, we will be ready.”

Lyssa nodded, but before she could continue, Bull stopped her by laying his big hand on her arm. “Lyssa?” She looked at him questioningly. “Try to find some rest,” he added.

She smiled, touched by his concern. “Thank you. I will.”

But not before she had looked after Blackwall and updated her advisors. She made her way towards the stables where Blackwall had his room, reaching it just as Solas came out and closed the door behind him.

“How is he?” Lyssa asked, and he looked up, smiling warmly as he saw her coming towards him.

“Still nauseated and struggling with headaches. But he took the potion and actually laid down. After our experience of the last days I insisted on making sure he would rest,” he told her.

“Good,” she nodded with relief. Despite his assurances to the contrary, Blackwall definitely had a concussion and the rather hasty journey had done nothing to improve his condition. But knowing him, Lyssa was sure he would have just returned to his usual always-busy-routine if Solas hadn’t insisted on taking him to his room directly. She was thankful Solas had taken care of it - one item less on her list.

She came to stand next to Solas, turning her body slightly in an invitation for him to join her on the way back. Her hand carefully touched his in a hesitant caress. This was new territory, and she felt a tingle in her stomach that was both excited and nervous. There was so much yet to discover, to explore with each other. Knowing Solas’ carefully maintained mask of calm learnedness and professionalism, she was unsure how he felt about public caresses and displays of affection.

Especially since she herself didn’t quite know how she felt about it. Did she want the rest of Skyhold to know about this already? The thought of keeping their blooming relationship for themselves for a while longer was enticing. Having him to herself and only herself… something that wasn’t of political interest or up for debate or to be exploited in some way was very tempting.

She felt his hand turn beneath hers and his fingers gingerly touched her palm in a caress that was both tender and more intimate than she had expected. A warm shiver ran over her skin, and she smiled up at him.

When he saw the slight flush in her cheeks, his eyes sparked, and before she realized what he was doing, he slid an arm around her waist, the other one wandering over her shoulder to cradle her neck. She felt herself being pulled into his embrace and her hands caressed Solas’ arms and came to rest on his shoulders, a warm tingle running through her as she saw the look on his face.

“I’ve wanted to do this the whole day long,” he murmured, his fingers weaving through her hair as he carefully angled her head and lowered his lips onto hers, kissing her with passion. She pressed herself against him as her heart did an excited, happy flip and his arm tightened around her. Lyssa sighed against his mouth, and he took the chance as her lips parted beneath his, his tongue wandering over her lower lip before he deepened the kiss. Her tongue teased against his, touching, drawing back and he groaned slightly as she nipped his lip with her teeth. The sound caused a warm shiver to run down her back and her fingers curled in his neck. His breath was sweet on her face as she let herself fall into the moment, feeling his body pressed against hers, her lips moving over his in the most sensual way. The hand on her back started to wander downwards towards the small of her back where it stopped abruptly as if he had to hold himself back.

His thumb caressed her cheek as he pulled back without letting go of her. “You will be my undoing,” Solas murmured against her lips, a hoarse undertone to his voice that caused her eyes to spark with delight.

Instead of an answer, she brushed her lips over his again, quickly taking his lower lip between hers and giving it a gentle tug before she drew back again. A smile was in the corner of his mouth as he looked at her with a gleam in his eyes that made her heart race. 

At that moment, they heard steps coming towards them, nearing the corner in quick, heavy strides. They both looked down the short hallway, then separated in unspoken agreement. Solas took his impeccable, upright pose, hands clutched behind his back, and Lyssa marveled at the ease with which he seemed to put the heat and longing away she had just seen in his eyes. She knew she was not in the least as easily composed, her cheeks flushed and her face an open book for everyone who cared to read it. She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to appear unfathomed, and Solas couldn’t hide an amused smile as he fell into step next to her. The person they had heard advancing came around the corner, a guardswoman on her way to her quarters. She faltered just slightly as she saw them, clearly surprised at the unexpected company.

“Your Worship!” she exclaimed, snapping to attention.

“Bree,” Lyssa greeted her, glad that she remembered the name, and quickly gave her a sign to be at ease. “Are you off duty now?”

The soldier relaxed slightly and gave her a nod. “I am, thank you. I, uh, I believe Commander Cullen was looking for you.”

Lyssa nodded. “Thank you. I was just on my way to see him after checking on Blackwall.”

Understanding dawned on Bree’s face and she gave them both a tentative smile. “Of course. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?“

“No,” she answered quickly. “No, thank you. You’re off duty. Cullen would have my head if I tried to rob you of your free time.”

Bree inclined her head, then she went on. Lyssa turned to Solas who had waited slightly behind her. “I better hurry. Will I see you tonight?”

The smile he gave her was warm as he nodded once. “Of course. I will see you later.”

 

* * *

 

The debriefing with the advisors took longer than expected. When Lyssa finally made her way up the many, many stairs to her quarters, she felt tired to the bones and dusk wasn’t far off. The last days were finally catching up to her, the nights where only she and Solas were able to keep watch and the days of hurry and fighting and keeping Dorian and Blackwall alive. Josephine had seen how tired she was by the end and had ordered her bath to be filled and dinner to be brought up. True to her word, a tray stood on her little worktable and the bathtub that Josephine had installed in one of the adjacent small rooms shortly after their arrival in Skyhold - complete with a drainage system that led through the castle - was filled with steaming hot water.

Above the bathtub, a small shelf was filled with various bottles, little jars, and soaps; expensive oils, petals, and lotions, ground volcanic aurum for exfoliating the skin, and a powder of various herbs for her hair. A big basket next to the tub held several fluffy towels and washcloths. It was one of the luxuries Lyssa couldn’t find it in herself to complain about, even though she still found the idea disconcerting that someone else brought heated water up here after she had refused any other personal servant or maid that Josie had tried to assign to her.

Lyssa put some scented oil into the water and quickly undressed, sinking into the hot bath with a delighted sigh. She felt her muscles relaxing in the heat, and for a second, she allowed herself to close her eyes, sinking deeper into the water, relishing in the sensation of heat and weightlessness and her thoughts drifted away.

When she jerked awake a while later, the water had cooled measurably already. It took her a second to sort her thoughts, and she blinked disoriented before she shook herself awake. With a surge of magic, she reheated the barely lukewarm water and reached for the volcanic aurum, giving herself a thorough scrubbing. Her hair was next, and she hummed with satisfaction as she loosened the braids and washed the dust and grease off that had accumulated over the course of the last few days.

A few minutes later, she drained the water from the bath. While it gurgled down the drain, she rubbed rose oil into her skin until the last memory of left-over dirt and blood and sweat was replaced by the feeling of cleanliness and comfort.

A look to the windows as Lyssa wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom told her that it wasn’t as late after her unintended nap as she had thought. The sun had just set, and the last orange and golden rays flooded the room. She had lost an hour at most, and if she hurried, she could still make it to the meeting with Solas before darkness fell. A giddy feeling went through her at the thought and at the same time she was immensely nervous. She had waited so long for the chance to be with him, had at times even already half given up on the hope that his decision would be in her favor… but she had never taken into account under how much scrutiny this would all be.

She was the Inquisitor, the so-called Herald of Andraste; there were always eyes on her. The meeting in the hallway with the guard had made that very clear. There wouldn’t be many opportunities to sneak away or have time just for themselves, not much of a shared daily routine - not with her elevated status. It was a completely new situation in every way.

Lyssa took a deep breath and shook her head. There was no use in worrying. So far, nobody knew about them, and there was nothing unusual about the two of them meeting in the evening for an hour or two. She quickly brushed her still dripping hair out, wringing the last moisture out of the long tresses and put it into a simple braid. Then she dressed into clean leggings and a tunic and was just about to grab a shawl against the cold that would greet her in the hallways when she heard a quiet knock.

“Come in,” she called, expecting a servant for the dinner tray that she had emptied while she got dressed. But the person who came up the stairs was no other than Solas. He had obviously washed and changed as well, wearing his usual tunic and breeches instead of the armor he had still worn when they had parted earlier this afternoon. Her whole face lit up as she saw him and when he smiled at her, all of her former nervousness was forgotten. Who cared about potential difficulties in the future? All that counted was here. Now.

“You’re here already,” she exclaimed softly and put the shawl back onto the chair. “I was just about to get on my way to you,” she smiled as she walked towards him to greet him. Solas held out a hand to take hers and when she interlaced her fingers with his, his thumb slowly caressed over her palm, making her skin tingle. The touch reminded her of the kiss in the hallway this afternoon, and without preamble, she put her arms around his neck. There was a mixture of heat and amusement in his eyes as he took her into his arms.

“When you didn’t turn up for dinner, I wasn’t sure whether you had fallen asleep. Considering the last few days I wouldn’t blame you,” he said, and she chuckled. 

“I did fall asleep. In the bath, that’s why I was too late for dinner in the hall. But Josie made sure I had something to eat nonetheless.”

His eyebrows went up slightly. “In the bath? Well, that explains the wet hair.”

“Hm,” Lyssa hummed and raised herself slightly onto the balls of her feet to brush her lips over his, murmuring, “I hope you don’t mind it?”

He huffed a laugh, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Right now?” he asked, and his arms tightened around her, “I couldn’t care less.”

Then his lips were on hers again, slowly first. It was the first time that they didn’t have to fear someone accidentally coming around the corner or out of their tent and they took their time. For a few endless moments, the world seemed to consist only of their joined lips, teasing, tasting, caressing. Somewhere at the back of her mind, Lyssa marveled at the difference it made, not listening with half an ear for a potential interruption, then the thought faded into nothingness as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her. Her hand came to his neck, caressing the skin she found and dipped beneath his collar to feel more before going back to curl in his neck. She could feel him smile against her lips before he kissed her again, deeper, more insistent and she responded in kind. She wanted more, wanted to feel every inch of his body against hers. His hand wandered down her back, and again he faltered as he reached the small of her back.

“If you want me to stop, tell me,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and his eyes burned into hers. Her lips tingled pleasantly from his kisses as she gave him a heated look. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered and kissed him again. With a little groan, he pulled her even closer, passion in the way his tongue darted over hers and his hand found her backside, cupping her firmly. His other hand was still cradling her head, angling her so he could deepen the kiss even more and Lyssa found herself melting into his embrace, desire waking in every cell of her body. Her hands started wandering over his neck, down over his chest until she could tug at his shirt. Instead of helping her, though, Solas started to carefully push her backward. The sudden movement was enough to stop her attempts to free his shirt from his belt, and she quickly steadied herself by grabbing his arms so as not to lose her balance. His lips never left hers until she felt the edge of the bed against her legs.

The hand that had been on her backside wandered upwards, beneath the hem of her tunic and again, he paused, looking at her.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed again, and the smile on his face made her weak at the knees. She hadn’t managed more than loosen his belt when his hands found the bare skin of her torso. He didn’t do much more than brush over it before he pulled the tunic up and over her head but it was enough to make her shiver in anticipation. She could feel his gaze on her skin like a touch, and her breasts tightened as his fingers softly caressed over her side, eliciting goosebumps.

“Ane ir’ina’lan’ehn,” he murmured, heat in his eyes that caused another shiver to run down her spine,  _ you are so beautiful _ .

His tunic followed hers, then his undershirt, and when her hands found his body, exploring and caressing, his small moan mirrored hers, drowned by their kisses. One of his knees nudged against her legs and without breaking the kiss, Lyssa let herself sink down on the bed, pulling him with her. The last few centimeters were more of a fall than anything else, and they both laughed, a sound that quickly turned into sighs and small sounds of pleasure as he urged her up the bed while kissing her neck and ears. She felt like she couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers, of the shifting and flexing of muscles and little shivers. His hands held her by the waist as they lowered themselves onto the bed, and she arched into his touch as his fingers ran up over her body, teasing at her breasts but not yet claiming, his mouth wandering from her lips to her neck, tasting, nipping. Then he pulled her arms over her head, pinning her against the mattress. They both still wore their leggings, but she could feel his arousal pressing against her hip through the cloth. 

“Vhenan,” he whispered hoarsely as she ground herself against him, yearning to touch him again but being unable to with her hands in his grip. It was a new sensation, and for a second she was surprised about the complete lack of unease she felt. But she trusted him, and the unspoken question as he looked at her made her heart speed up. Despite the fact that it had been her who had initiated everything that was between them with their kiss in the Fade, he wanted to make sure she wanted this as much as he. The unveiled desire in his eyes made her breathless, and her lips felt swollen from his kisses. She wanted more,  _ needed _ more.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, and something flashed in his eyes at the words. His hands let go of Lyssa’s arms, but she kept them where they were for the moment, reveling in the sensation of his touch. He took his time, exploring every inch of her body, soft and insistent at the same time. Kisses were showered over her jaw and neck as his hands found the sides of her breasts. Lips and fingers alternated, followed by nips and teeth and the insistent touch of his hands, learning and remembering every spot that made her shudder with lust.

Her eyes fluttered close at the caresses and as he slowly, slowly made his way down her body, every coherent thought dissolved. When he finally reached her breasts, lips closing around her hard, puckered nipples, a sharp spike of desire went through her, and she gasped loudly as he circled them with his tongue. His breath was hot on her skin as he explored one, then the other breast with mouth and fingers until she squirmed beneath his hands. She hadn’t even realized that she’d taken her arms down, but when his lips trailed down to her belly and lower, her hands found his shoulders and head, wordlessly urging him on towards the place where her desire swirled in a tight ball. His hands slowly, slowly dipped beneath the hem of her leggings and she lifted her hips to help him pull them off.

Then she laid bare before him, her chest rising and falling quickly, her heart racing. She felt his gaze like a touch on her skin. Solas’ hands wandered back up again from her feet, but his hands paused on her thighs, an unspoken question between them.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and a sensual smile was on his lips as he slowly spread her legs. The air felt cold between her thighs as it met the wetness there, but it was quickly replaced by the feeling of his mouth. Lyssa’s head fell back with a moan at the immense pleasure flooding her as his tongue parted the folds and found the hard nub at her core.

“Solas…” His name was a gasp on her lips as his tongue circled it, teasing over it with more pressure, then less. Her nails raked over the skin on his head, trying in vain to urge him closer - but he took his time, licking and sucking until her body felt like molten glass, incoherent moans and pleas falling from her lips. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she felt a finger sliding into her, then a second, curling upwards just  _ right _ and the desire that had swirled tighter and tighter in her belly exploded into waves of pleasure as she cried out her release. 

Lyssa barely had time to recover from her high and her chest fell and rose quickly as he moved over her. She reached for him with a wordless sound and breathless smile, intent on giving him the pleasure he just gave her, but Solas captured her hands, interlacing their fingers as he lined up their bodies, his knees parting her legs even further. A delighted gasp escaped her as she realized he got rid of his pants at some point and his eyes shimmered dark as he returned the smile and claimed her mouth again. The same moment that his tongue touched hers she felt him breach her entrance, agonizingly slow. She arched into the movement, and her moan was nearly desperate as he filled her inch by inch, taking his time even as his breath hitched. Her hands were captured in his, and even though she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him on with little movements that made him groan deep in his throat, he paused, buried deep inside her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found him looking at her, drinking in the sight of her. The grip of his fingers tightened as she moved beneath him with a pleading sound, his lips curling in a hungry smile.

“Vhenan,” he rasped, the word hoarse and full of desire, accompanied by an oh-so-slow thrust that made her gasp. He reached for her face, his thumb brushing over her lips and she caught it with her mouth, teeth nipping and tongue teasing. Solas’ eyes narrowed slightly, and she could feel a tremble running over his body.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed and tightened around him, and his lips opened with a wordless sound of pleasure. It was as if he only now gave himself permission to let go completely. With a ragged groan, he started to rise and fall inside her, slowly, deliberate. He caught her moans with his kiss, and her nails raked over his skin, pulling him closer, closer as her hips met his with eagerness. The world dissolved in their shared ecstasy, the only sounds those of their hitched breaths and wordless moans, and again and again, their lips met in desperate kisses. He drew his knees beneath him, holding her hips as he changed the angle, his thrusts hard and fast, and she arched her back into his hands. All she could do was hold on as he moved within her with a pounding rhythm, pleasure racing through her veins. A guttural sound was in his throat as he sped up even more and then his hand found its way back between her legs, his thumb deftly rubbing over her sweet spot. Her voice broke in a wordless cry as pleasure exploded through her and turned her body to liquid. As she clenched around him, his rhythm faltered, his head falling back with a deep moan. A few last thrusts and he spilled himself within her and his fingers dug into her skin as she still quivered in her release.

With a low groan, he collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him as they both fought for breath. A shiver went through her as he slid out of her, freeing her of his weight and lay down next to her.

“That was… incredible,” Lyssa breathed when she found her voice again, turning onto her side to face him. His deep chuckle made her smile, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Indeed,” he murmured, kissing her tenderly. For a long time, she just looked at him with a warmth and satisfaction that went beyond the physical pleasure they had shared. This felt  _ right _ . For the first time in months, she felt something akin to being where she was supposed to be. The shadows in the room had filled every corner and the only light left was from the nearly burned-down fire in the fireplace, a warm glow flickering over their skin that still glistened with moisture. Neither of them felt the need to say anything, and Lyssa savored the chance to touch him without restraint, her fingers trailing over his skin without any agenda but to caress, over the soft welts of old scars and the play of muscles on his lean body.

“Will you stay the night?” she asked after a while, her hand pausing in her exploration. She wouldn’t be surprised if Solas wanted to uphold the illusion of being just friends for a while longer - she herself had thought about it more than once after all. But at this moment, she didn’t want him to leave in the least.

“Do you want me to?” he asked in return, his eyes softening as a relieved smile spread over her lips.

“More than anything,” she nodded, and his kiss was answer enough, making her heart flutter with happiness.

Just like they usually did in their evening meetings, they fell into a quiet, relaxed conversation about the events of the last few days, but there was a new layer of connectedness between them. When Lyssa got up again to relieve and clean herself and fetch them something to drink, his eyes followed her through the room with a warmth she hadn’t seen in him before. He followed her example, and when he came back, she waited beneath the covers for him. Solas moved through the room with the ease of someone who felt at home, unashamed in his nakedness and she relished the opportunity to watch him as the light of the dying fire played over his skin. When he slid back under the blanket, she settled into his arms with a content sigh, turning her face to kiss him. Her eyes fluttered close at the soft touch of his lips, and her body was warm and heavy in his embrace.

“Ar lath ma, ma’arasha.”  _ I love you, my happiness. _ The words were barely audible against his skin but he heard them anyway and his arms tightened around her.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he murmured into her hair and his voice was deep with emotion. Lyssa fell asleep in his arms with a smile on her face.


	12. Short Night

It took Lyssa a while to wake up completely. Solas stirred next to her, his arm sliding around her and pulling her closer towards his body. The warm feeling of his naked skin against hers was exhilarating, waking the memory of the passion they had shared just a few hours earlier. She traced a finger over his skin, still half-asleep, her body warm and soft against his. Her hand wandered over his arm, shoulder, the muscles of his abdomen to the trail of hair leading,  _ teasing _ downwards and he made a content, lazy sound as she cupped him in her hand in a short caress. He murmured something incomprehensible as his arm tightened around her and she smiled as she snuggled back into his embrace with a content sigh and closed her eyes. Solas placed a kiss on her shoulder before his breathing became deep and regular again. Lyssa was just about to drift off to sleep again, too, when she heard a knock.

“Inquisitor?”

The voice was quiet, muffled from behind the door. Another knock quickly followed it, and she realized that it was what had woken her in the first place. 

She sighed and furrowed her brow in confusion, blinking slowly. It was still dark, not even a shimmer of the morning visible through the window. It had started to snow again, big fluffy snowflakes dancing silently in front of the window. Carefully, she peeled herself out of Solas’ embrace. “Lyssa?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and she softly touched his face, kissing his brow as she whispered, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Another knock, a bit louder this time.

She yawned as she walked barefoot over towards the stairs, calling softly, “What is it?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Inquisitor, but there’s been an incident.” She recognized Cullen’s voice. “We’re needed in the war room.”

Lyssa looked back to the darkness behind the window and rubbed her eyes in a vain attempt to drive back the sleepiness. They wouldn’t wake her in the dead of the night if it wasn’t urgent. “Give me a moment,” she sighed. She didn’t light a candle because she didn’t want to wake Solas, just quickly grabbed her tunic and pulled on the soft leggings she always wore when not on official business. Nobody could expect her to dress up for a middle-of-the-night-meeting. The cold stone beneath her bare feet helped her to wake up as she hurried down the stairs, pulling the tunic over her head.

“That important?” she just asked when she closed the door behind herself, and Cullen nodded with a sigh. “Seems like it. Josephine and Leliana will be waiting already.”

He was in an equally disheveled state, his shirt tucked in only halfway. With his unruly looking hair and out of his armor he looked ten years younger, but he seemed to be as tired as she felt. Lyssa used her fingers to loosen her braid and comb through the long strands of her hair before braiding it again as they made their way down the stairs. It was freezing in the stairwells and the hallway leading to the war room, and she rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them up. Winter still had Skyhold firmly in its grip, and the wall in the hallway wasn’t completely fixed yet, only boarded up with wooden planks. Both cold wind and individual snowflakes made their way through the cracks, making the torches flicker. Absentmindedly, she tucked up the tunic which had slid over her shoulder as Cullen opened the door. Leliana was kneeling in front of the fireplace, stoking the flames up again. She was the only one impeccably dressed, and for a second, Lyssa wondered if her spymaster ever slept at all or just slept in her clothes. She sighed thankfully as she felt the thick carpet beneath her bare feet and curled her toes into the warm fabric, hugging herself. She had definitely underestimated the temperatures in the hold.

Josephine had been smarter than she and was wrapped in a big shawl draped over her dressing gown. She read a paper lying on the table, her gaze serious. When Cullen and Lyssa stepped to the table, she looked up, a tired smile on her face. “Thank you for coming and, I apologize for…” She trailed off, and for a second she stared at the Inquisitor, her eyebrows shooting up and her mouth forming a silent ‘oh.’ Lyssa blinked in confusion. It was not like her dressing state was a surprise, given the time. She pulled up the neckline of her shirt that had slid over her bare shoulder again. Was this another of those moments of the humans’ obsession with decency?

“What is it?” She looked from one of her advisors to the other, but Cullen just frowned and shrugged and Leliana gave her a small, warm smile, a knowing look in her eyes as she stepped up to the table. Before Lyssa could ask again, Josephine seemed to collect herself, a blush creeping into her cheeks and her eyes sparkling with delight. “I didn’t realize… my sincere apologies.” She cleared her throat and looked down to the letter again. “However, I am afraid the occasion merits a disturbance of your rest. This arrived by raven an hour ago.”

Cullen took the letter up only to put it back after a single look. When Lyssa spied the writing scribbled upon the small piece of paper, she understood why; it was written in the cypher shorthand that Leliana used with their spies. Apart from them, nobody could read it. Apart from them and Josephine, that was. “What’s it say?” Cullen asked, crossing his arms before his chest.

“It was a trap,” Leliana answered in Josephine’s stead, her eyes searching Lyssa’s. “The ambush on your way back to Skyhold, it was a trap.”

Slowly, the last traces of sleepiness fell off her, but Lyssa still couldn’t quite follow. “I don’t understand. Of course it was a trap, they tried to kill us after all,” she said, but Leliana shook her head.

“No. They tried to  _ distract  _ you. Their target wasn’t you - it was Skyhold.”

Cullen frowned. “The guards have not picked up anything unusual,” he said, and Leliana nodded.

“They couldn't have, not yet. The ambush wasn’t meant to kill you, Inquisitor, it was meant to  _ delay _ you so your arrival would coincide with the arrival of a convoy.”

Josephine added carefully and with an apologizing look in Lyssa’s direction, “Your return - especially with wounded - always creates a… let’s call it turmoil.”

Lyssa scoffed and hugged herself closer, suddenly uncomfortable. “Turmoil is an understatement,” she murmured. While she tried to blend in as much as possible  _ if _ possible, she didn’t bother with an attempt at anonymity when she had someone wounded with her. Getting them the help and care they needed as fast as possible by far outweighed the discomfort that was always caused for her when people spotted her and tried to get her attention by calling out to her, asking for a blessing or even reaching to touch her. Even now in winter, people still regularly arrived at Skyhold, swearing themselves to the Inquisition to be under the Herald’s protection. The snow had started to slow the trickle of refugees but not managed to stop it. Whole families had come, parents holding their children towards her, asking her to bless them. Sometimes sick people hoped for a miracle healing. Josephine kept assuring her that it would calm down over time, but it had been barely four months since Haven, and so far, the believers continued their open worship whenever she stepped into the open.

Their arrival yesterday had been no different - or rather even more dramatic, since Dorian’s wounds were so severe, and when they finally had made it through Skyhold’s gate, he had been close to losing consciousness. The convoy Leliana spoke of, and several groups of refugees had arrived not much earlier, and the lower courtyard had been filled with people. Some were still trying to settle down and find their bearings, others had been unloading some of the carts, and several crates had been laying around, waiting for someone to deliver them to their intended destination. When they had reined their horses in, someone had recognized Lyssa, and immediately, several people had started to flock around her, oblivious to the poor state of some of her companions. Handling both the crowd and getting Dorian to the infirmary at the same time had been a challenge. Especially since Blackwall, too, was far from fully recovered.

Leliana gave her a nod. “There were Venatori spies in the convoy,” she elaborated. “They counted on the fact that the guards wouldn’t be able to efficiently keep track of everyone coming through or be as thorough in their search of the wagons when the Herald was in the courtyard. And it seems they were right.”

Cullen straightened. She glanced over, watching him clench his teeth as he glowered at Leliana who returned the look without flinching. Just as he was about to speak, Lyssa interjected quietly, “Don’t blame your guards, Cullen. I remember the chaos in the courtyard. There wasn’t only the convoy; there were several refugee groups that arrived in the last few days, too. It would have been a nightmare even without my arrival adding to the whole thing.”

Cullen did not seem convinced, but he relaxed a tad.

“We need to find the spies before they can do the damage they were sent to do,” Leliana added.

“Will we have to prepare for an attack?” Lyssa asked, suddenly anxious. They were still healing from the attack on Haven and Skyhold was far from being properly prepared for an all-out offense. Josephine seemed to share her worries.

“We haven’t had the time to collect enough supplies to properly outfit every station on the keep,” she said with worry in her features, “and winter is not making things easier. We cannot withstand an attack or siege now.”

But Cullen shook his head, looking doubtful. “Winter might make things more difficult, but it is also something Corypheus has to deal with. Not even he is above the seasons. And we dealt them a big blow at Haven, they lost at least a quarter if not half of their army and suffered who knows how many injuries. I doubt they are in any condition to bring an army up into the mountains, much less attack us.”

Leliana nodded. “I agree. However, even a single well-trained spy within Skyhold can deal us an enormous amount of damage. Assassinations, poisoning of wells or food, damaging valuable equipment… take your pick.”

“I’ll double the guards immediately,” Cullen said and turned to leave, but Josephine quickly shook her head.

“No. That would only alert them.”

Leliana nodded again. “If they sense we are onto them, they will disappear or bide their time, and we wouldn’t be any wiser.”

“So we just let them do whatever they came to do?” he exclaimed. Leliana smiled as if she had expected that reaction.

“Of course not. We will protect our own. We just have to do it… discreetly.”

Lyssa listened to the discussion without interrupting her advisors. She tried to recall the scene on the courtyard, tried to remember if anyone stood out to her, but she had been so focussed on Dorian that she had barely looked at the crowd. But others might have seen something.

“We should ask Solas and Bull if they saw someone suspicious,” she said softly. Bull had come down to help carry Dorian nearly as soon as they had arrived.

Cullen paused. “Why those two?” he asked. There was a curious note to his voice, and Lyssa looked up, her eyes darting over the human’s face but all she read was open interest.

“Because they once discovered a venatori spy disguised as a baker in a village we passed just by the way he had bound his apron,” she simply answered, and Leliana nodded her assent. If anyone, Solas and Iron Bull were the ones who had seen someone. Leliana inclined her head. “Indeed. I will ask them.”

“So what’s our next step?” Josephine asked.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Lyssa looked up. “Let’s upgrade the wells.”

Leliana tilted her head. “You think they will go for the water?”

Lyssa shrugged. “It’s what I would do. Food can be replaced, equipment can be replaced, but cutting off the water supply would force us to abandon the site.” 

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “True. For the moment we could supplement it with the fresh snow but give it another two months or so and that won’t be a valid option anymore. And upgrading the wells would be a good cover for additional guards.”

“We need to keep this on an absolute need-to-know basis,” Leliana stated as she went over to the window where various rolled-up papers were stored in a high basket. She pulled out one and brought it over to the war table, unrolling it and holding the edges down by placing some weights on them. Lyssa recognized the schematics of Skyhold they had used back when they had arrived to optimize the distribution and localization of their various divisions. 

“Alright,” Josephine acknowledged and dipped her pen into the little ink pot on her ever-present writing board and started to write. “Let’s plan.”

 

The sun was already up when they were finished. At some point, a servant had come and brought them breakfast which they had eaten without interrupting their planning, and Lyssa felt weirdly wired despite the lack of sleep. “I’ll talk to Solas and Bull,” she said to Cullen as they walked towards the main hall where they could already hear the subdued morning talk of the people getting breakfast on the long tables that were brought in for the morning and evening meals. 

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll take care of assigning the work crews. Talk to you later.”

He bowed his head in greeting to her as they split up in the main hall. Lyssa smiled at some of her friends with a quiet “Good morning,” as she passed them on her way towards her quarters. Cassandra gave her a nod, her eyes widening slightly as she took her in and then giving her a rare smile. Varric’s whole face lit up as he saw her. “Good for you, Ember!” he grinned and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

Sera’s eyebrows lifted as she gave Lyssa a once-over before she shook her head with an annoyed, “Oh no.”

Without meaning to, Lyssa blushed and self-consciously tugged the shirt up again. Why was everyone acting so strangely? She had travelled with each of them and was sure they had all seen her in some state of undress. Never had she elicited such reactions.

“Please, darling, don’t be rude,” Vivienne chided Sera who more than openly rolled her eyes, blowing her a raspberry. As always, the First Enchanter had already taken her breakfast in her own quarters, but she liked to join the others for coffee, sitting in one of the few chairs as if sitting on a throne. Addressing Lyssa who had stopped in confusion, she added, “Don’t concern yourself with them, my dear. I am sure there is a reason for your… attire. And I can see you are on your way to your quarters to get dressed, so don’t let us keep you.” A corner of her mouth lifted delicately, and Lyssa breathed out in relief as she understood the opportunity Vivienne had just given her to quickly excuse herself.

She mouthed a thank you and hurried along, taking two steps at a time on the way up to her quarters as she put both the weird reactions of her friends and the threat of Venatori spies out of her mind. She hadn’t seen Solas down at the breakfast table, so maybe he was still in her quarters. The thought brought on a blush of a completely different kind and a warm, excited tingle spread through her body.

 

As she came up the stairs, she found Solas on her bed, leaning cross-legged and relaxed against the top of the bed, a book in one hand. He wore his leggings and undershirt that accentuated his muscular, bare arms. For a moment, she just looked at him, her heart still beating hard from the race up the stairs. He seemed completely at ease here, and pure joy flooded her at the realization that they were really, finally together.

Solas smiled at her, eyes sparkling as he put the book aside. “Ah,” he said, “there it is. I have been wondering.”

Lyssa cocked her head questioningly as she walked over to him. “There is what?”

He nodded at her torso. “My shirt,” he answered, amusement in his voice.

She stopped dead in her steps, looking down. Indeed - instead of the tunic she had thought she wore, she had grabbed Solas’ shirt in the darkness. It was too big for her, hanging down over her knees and the dark-hemmed neckline kept sliding down over her shoulder, unmistakably his. Suddenly, the looks she had gotten made sense. Without meaning to, she had advertised their changed relationship status and their activities of the last night all over Skyhold. Dorian would be so mad that he was the last one to know.

“I… didn’t mean to…” she stammered, embarrassed. With a groan, she sat down on the bed, covering her face with both hands. “That was not how I wanted to do this.”

She could feel him shift on the bed and felt his arms come around her, pulling her towards him. “So, who saw you?” he murmured against her neck, lips teasing her skin, wandering from her shoulder to her ear.

“Basically everyone,” Lyssa confessed with a sigh and turned in his arms so she sat on his lap, both legs framing him, and put her arms around his neck. “And those who didn’t will know it by noon from either Varric or Sera, I suppose. I am sorry. I didn’t even realize I wore it. And I kept wondering about the looks I got,” she murmured.

To her surprise, Solas didn’t seem too bothered. “Well,” he said, “they would have known eventually. And now I am at least prepared for Sera’s undoubtedly inappropriate remarks.” Lyssa laughed, and the last of her embarrassment vanished. There was a softness to his features as he looked at her with a smile and a warm tingle woke within her as his hands slid up over her waist under the shirt, caressing the bare skin he found there.

“I could get used to finding you in my bed in the morning,” she murmured and brushed her lips over his, sighing approvingly as his hands found her breasts that turned into a sharp, thrilled intake of breath as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples. He smiled beneath her kiss before he deepened it and Lyssa could feel the proof of his waking arousal pressing against her core. With a slow roll of her hip she coaxed a muffled groan from him, and in the next moment, she found herself lifted and laid down on the bed. She looked up at him with bright eyes and a breathless laugh, warmth pooling in her belly at the sensual smile he gave her and the sensation his wandering hands elicited within her.

“Well, if they talk in any case, there is no need to hold back, is there?” he asked, pulling her arms over her head with one hand as the other one slid down beneath the hem of her trousers and between her legs. His lips caught her moan, and shortly afterwards, Lyssa found herself not worrying about adding another topic to Skyhold’s gossip anymore.

  
  
  



	13. Duties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not planned. Your comments made me do it ;)

There was a low murmur in the Great Hall coming from the gathered nobles and diplomats, several servants walking around with trays. Glasses full of hot cider and little cakes were offered for those waiting for their turn to speak to the Herald of Andraste.

Lyssa sat on the throne, her eyes fixed on the Orlesian standing in front of her. He had been talking for several minutes already, elaborated and flowery sentences all saying the same thing. She just hoped that her tired boredom did not show too clearly on her face. Josephine had been practising with her to school her features into a mask of polite attention no matter her actual feelings, but she was unsure just how well she managed it. Especially on days like this.

“... cannot tell you how much it means that you would bestow on me the honor of welcoming me to Skyhold, your Worship. To grant me the grace of being in your presence, of lending me your ear. I guarantee you that I do not take for granted that you would meet…”

Lyssa had trouble concentrating on the Duke’s voice as he went on and on. She was still unable to get rid of the discomfort of sitting on the throne, but whenever she was at Skyhold, welcoming nobles and diplomats had become a necessity. The dark red cushions did not help ease the time she had to be seated there. The hard wood and too-large seat made her back harden and cramp over time.

From outside, the sound of the perpetual drizzle of the early spring rains lulled her in even more. The servants had tried to bring some light and color into Skyhold by placing flower pots at several places throughout the keep, but it was hard to see them as anything more than futile attempts to combat the grey of late winter. Lyssa barely resisted the urge to pull her coat closer around her as a shiver ran over her. They had put fire bowls filled with warming embers next to the throne for her, but they didn’t help much in battling the damp chill that had crept into the big halls.

At least the Orlesian did not kneel before her. Seeing people bend their knees before her, some even bowing their heads as they whispered a prayer was something she would never get used to. But while the Duke was respectful, his face hidden behind an ornate full Orlesian mask that was dampening his voice, he had not knelt. She attributed it to his noble title. If there was anything she had learned in these last months, it was that nobles did not like to make themselves smaller, not even for the Herald of Andraste.

“... with great humility that I…” 

He was still talking, and Lyssa sighed. The man was the last in a long line of diplomats that had arrived over the last few days, and while she hadn’t wanted to divert her attention from catching the Venatori saboteur that was still at large, Josephine had insisted on carrying on as usual. Which meant hours-long sessions on the throne, letters, and meetings, and dinners that were filled with false promises and hints and little honesty.

It was only when the man knelt down after all that Lyssa drew her thoughts back to the present, just in time to hear him say, “... of granting me your hand.”

Lyssa blinked and straightened. Did she hear him correctly?

“Excuse me?” she asked, her eyes widening.

The man seemed to hesitate for a second, then he pulled his shoulders back somewhat and put forth his hand again. Only now did Lyssa see the ring sitting on a little satin cushion and suddenly, her stomach clenched.

“I apologize, your Worship, if I have not been clear in my words, and humbly beg for forgiveness. But in your wisdom, you clearly can see how advantageous it would be to combine our forces by marriage. An alliance between Inquisition and House Legrand would be -”

He stopped when Lyssa stood up abruptly, and silence fell in the Great Hall, the background whispers and low talks stopping. For a second, only the sound of the rain against the windows could be heard.

“You’re proposing to me?!” she asked, incredulously, her eyes fixated on the unmoving, impersonal mask looking up at her. Her words seemed to echo in the big hall, a hint of panic beneath the disbelief in her voice. From the corner of her eye, she saw Josephine hurrying towards her, but before the ambassador could reach her, the man before her spoke again, putting one hand on his heart while offering her the ring again.

“I do, your Worship, and I assure you I have only the best intentions-”

“No!” Lyssa interrupted him before she could think better of it. She still stared at him, her heart beating hard and fast. This couldn’t be happening, could it? “You don’t know me, Duke Legrand. You haven’t even shown me your face! How can you exp-”

“Thank you, Duke Legrand!” Suddenly, Josephine was next to her, grabbing her arm in a surprisingly strong grip to interrupt her, even though her smile for the Duke was all sweetness. “What an honor you bestow on us by your gracious offering of an alliance. As you can see, the Inquisitor is overwhelmed by your kindness. I assure you that we value your presence and proposal immensely, but surely a more private setting for such a delicate matter would be beneficial to us all?”

From somewhere in the background, a little snicker could be heard, quickly drowned by the whispers and talking that started anew, and the Duke was on his feet again, his fingers closing tightly around the ring. Lyssa thought she felt a certain stiffness to his movements, even though his voice was all pleasantness and calmness. But his mask covered any emotion he might have shown, and Lyssa felt as if she was looking at a statue. It made her feel even more helpless.

“Of course, Ambassador,” the Duke said. “Please forgive my brashness, Inquisitor.”

Josephine looked at Lyssa, giving her arm another squeeze.

Lyssa forced a smile on her face and gave him a nod, Josie’s fingers pressing painfully into her arm. “No need to apologize, Duke,” she said, her voice just slightly shaky. “I was just surprised.”

He bowed with a flourish. “I will come and find you for a private talk later then,” he said gallantly before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Lyssa let out a breath as Josephine let go of her arm. She wasn’t quite sure whether he had meant her or Josie, but for the moment, all that mattered to her was that the situation was dealt with. At least for now.

The ambassador turned to her with an apologetic expression on her face. “I am sorry, Lyssa, I should have anticipated something like this earlier. I will deal with the Duke, but you have to prepare for more of such proposals. This was… not good. We’ll talk about this later, alright?”

She just nodded, then waited as Josephine officially ended the audience and walked through the crowd to where Varric and Solas stood. She still felt strange, her knees wobbly. It was bad enough that people worshipped her as Herald, expected her to lead a Chantry organization - but now they wanted to draw her into their nobility games, too? Political marriages and everything it entailed? She shuddered at the thought of being at the mercy of a human nobleman, a husband who had no love for her but only for whom and what she represented.

“Interesting approach, Ember, yelling the man down in front of everyone,” Varric said with a grin when she arrived, and Lyssa groaned. She knew she hadn’t handled it the best way… which was in itself an understatement.

“I was surprised,” she mumbled defensively. The corner of Solas’ mouth lifted, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I daresay it was effective, at least,” he said. “I doubt he expects his proposal to go anywhere.”

“I hope so,” Lyssa sighed. Solas gave her a smile, and she felt herself relax somewhat at the warmth in his eyes. They kept their relationship out of the public eye, so she was careful with shows of affection, but in moments like this, it was hard not to seek comfort in his touch.

“He won’t be the last, though,” Varric interjected. “Hawke had one or two of those, too, but she wasn’t head of the Inquisition. Nobles love to get their hands on more power, especially when…” He trailed off, and Lyssa felt the urge to gag as she got his meaning. Especially when that power came in the form of a woman.

“Fenedhis lasa,” she muttered.

Before she could say anything else, there was a shift in the air and in the way that Solas and Varric stood, and even before they respectfully bowed their heads, Lyssa knew that someone was approaching. When she turned, she found Duke Legrand just a tad too close. Without meaning to, she took an instinctive step back from him, closer to Solas who moved slightly, so she felt his calming presence directly behind her.

“My lady Inquisitor,” Legrand said, “as for our private talk…”

There was a short pause, and it took a moment for her to understand that he waited for her to answer. Lyssa blinked, her mind racing. _Creators_ , she was not prepared for this.

“I… am sorry, your Grace,” she said, grateful to have remembered the correct form of address. For a second, she struggled for words, then she continued, “I will not find time for you tonight. There is an issue I need to take care of.”

The Duke pulled himself up a bit straighter. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice cool. The mask still left Lyssa unable to read his features, to gauge his actual mood, but there was something about him that made her uneasy. He seemed too tense, and all respect had disappeared from his gestures. More and more, Lyssa had the bad feeling that her faux-pas had been a serious offense and that Duke Legrand was not one to let this go. And she wasn’t the only one who felt it, it seemed. A slight touch at the small of her back told her that Solas had put his hand there in a silent gesture of support. She quickly looked up at him, but his eyes were fixed on the Duke, his features stern and proud. There was an air of danger about him, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. When she looked back to the Duke, she could see that he had followed her eyes to look at Solas and had noticed it as well.

Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed as she said in an attempt to draw his attention back to herself, “Yes, your Grace. Please accept my apologies, but it is rather urgent. Ambassador Montilyet will be answering all your questions.”

“I see,” the Duke murmured, and she gave him a quick smile.

“Thank you for your understanding. Please excuse us.”

With that, she gave him a nod, then turned and walked into the rotunda after a quick smile to Varric who gave her a wink. Solas followed her closely. As soon as they were out of sight, she reached for his hand.

“He makes me uneasy,” she murmured as he let his fingers interlace with hers for a second, a short caress that was gone again after just a moment, leaving her skin tingling with a deep-seated longing for more. A stolen touch they should not share, not while there was nobility around and she had to present the picture of the aloof and holy Herald of Andraste for their sakes.

“I know what you mean, vhenan,” Solas answered, and for a moment it looked like he would say something else but then thought better of it.

“I did not lie, though,” Lyssa said and indicated to him to follow her outside the second door that led to the bridge to Cullen’s office. Before she stepped outside in the rain, she added, “There is indeed something we need to address tonight.” 

“Let me guess,” Solas murmured, “the saboteur.”

Lyssa only nodded. After they had heard about the Venatori that had come to Skyhold, they had tried for nearly three weeks now to find them, but so far to no avail. And Lyssa knew there were trips she could no longer put off, rifts to close, investigations to attend to. But while the Venatori was at large in Skyhold, it was hard to guarantee her safety, and neither Cullen nor Leliana were inclined to let them go before the saboteur had been dealt with.

“I think it’s time we shared our theory with Cullen. Will you join me?”

Solas nodded. “Of course,” he said.

They hurried through the rain towards the Commander’s office where she knew he would be hiding from the official gatherings. As expected, they found him behind his table. Cullen looked up from his paperwork with a tired frown that eased into a smile as they came in.

“Inquisitor,” he nodded. “Audience finally over?”

Lyssa let out a breath and saw his smile widen in understanding. To her surprise, she had found in him someone who loathed such officials just as much as she did. It had helped a lot to find a connection to him and overcome the instinctive fear he had elicited in her in the beginning. It had been months since she had felt intimidated by him, and by now, even something like a friendship had started to develop between them. “Finally, yes.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

She exchanged a look with Solas as they stepped up to the desk and nodded.

“Orlais has made the first step,” Solas said calmly. “The first marriage proposal. And from a Duke no less. I expect you’ll have correspondence from the Empress soon.”

Cullen leaned back. “I see,” he said slowly, looking from Lyssa to Solas. “But I hope you’re not here just to gossip with me about Orlesian politics.”

Lyssa smiled. “No, don’t worry, Cullen.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” he answered, a lopsided grin on his face. “I keep as far away from that as possible for a reason. So, what can I do for you, Inquisitor?”

“It’s about the Venatori saboteur,” she said. “We think they're preparing a blood magic ritual.”

Stunned silence followed her words.

“What?” Cullen eventually said with a deep frown. 

Lyssa nodded. “Think about it. What could hurt us more than a summoning in our own keep?”

“Wait, you think they’ll summon Corypheus directly here?” Cullen seemed unconvinced.

Solas shook his head. “Not Corypheus himself, but it would be enough to open a rift or two directly here in Skyhold to make it potentially unstable. Have a few demons rip through the refugees down in the village, kill some of the nobles, bring a rage demon in the stables to set it ablaze… I don’t know if it would really cripple us for a long time, but it would definitely cut political support for us if we couldn’t protect our stronghold from inside. It would shatter people’s trust in us.”

Lyssa had both arms slung around her, hugging herself close as she remembered Redcliffe and what she and Dorian had experienced. “I saw what they did in the future,” she said quietly. “There were rituals and demons everywhere. People’s life forces were drawn directly into summoning circles, and the demons… they were powerful. So powerful. What if they try something like that here, too? Just think about it. They couldn’t touch the wells; in fact, they didn’t even seem to try to. We had no sabotage in either the food or equipment storages, the walls are protected, and our supply lines have not been touched. Leliana’s spies told us that the message said to cripple us as much as possible, so what else is there that they could try if not magic?”

“I haven’t felt anything unusual,” Solas said, “and neither have the other mages I have talked to over the last few weeks. So far, they did not try anything, but that could change any time.”

Lyssa nodded. “Rituals need preparation time, so it’s not unusual for them to take long, and this one only has one try. They know that.”

Cullen nodded slowly. “Then how do we find that ritual place? Skyhold is already reaching its limits, there are no unsupervised or empty rooms where you could just set up something like that.”

She shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “If we knew that, we’d not be here… I actually tried to find something, anything before, but without success.”

”Fair enough,” Cullen muttered, already deep in thought. “We need to bring this to Leliana and Josephine’s attention. Maybe Fiona should be involved, too. And I-”

He could not finish his sentence when they heard a tumult from outside.

Voices and screams wafted towards them. “Maker!” “What’s this?!” “Another Breach?”

The three exchanged a single look, then they hurried outside. It didn’t take them long to discover the single person in the middle of the courtyard. A mage inside a glowing ritual, flames flickering in red and angry green over the lines and circles, unbothered by the rain. An icy shower ran over Lyssa’s back as she heard the words coming from the mage, dark and echoing, surprisingly loud despite the distance. The voice was distorted, _wrong_ , and she knew that as soon as the ritual was over, demons would break forth from the Circle and probably from the mage himself.

“I need to get down there!” Lyssa said, but Solas grabbed her arm.

“Look!” he urged. She followed his eyes up towards the sky and gasped.

“This can’t be happening!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. Just above Skyhold, the sky… moved. It was as if the very air boiled, big bubbles forming and disappearing, wafting over the deep clouds, the rain sizzling where they met the eerie red glow that stretched over the keep.

“They didn’t need a small room,” Solas said suddenly. “They made the whole of Skyhold their ritual.”

It took her only a second to sense it - the thin lines of power stretching like a net through Skyhold that were suddenly buzzing with energy.

“Creators, protect us,” Lyssa muttered, then she forced herself back to the present. “We need to stop it!”

“How?” Cullen called out, already drawing his sword.

“Find the focus points,” Solas answered immediately. “He can’t keep this up for long. Destroy them, and it will collapse on itself.”

“I’ll deal with the Venatori.” Lyssa didn’t wait for an answer, already sprinting down the battlements to find the quickest way down. As she ran, she grabbed the hem of her gown that she had dressed in for the audience, summoning flames in her hand to burn a hole into it. As soon as she felt the fabric give, she ripped it open up to her thighs, stuffing the loose ends up into her belt to have more movability and not be hindered by the masses of fabric around her legs. People had started to come out of the buildings to see what was happening, and by the time Lyssa reached the lower courtyard where the Venatori was, a few soldiers and mages had already started to attack him.

“Inquisitor!”

She did not know the name of the mage greeting her, but she knew that shine of panic in her eyes. The mage was young, barely out of her teens from the looks of it.

“The barrier, mylady, it’s too strong!”

Lyssa could see the barrier’s energy shift and shimmer under the force of the attacks pounding against it, but it held strong. The Venatori inside barely paid attention to what was happening around him. His arms were slashed open and bleeding heavily, his eyes dark flames in his face that was distorted by pain, shining from inside.

“He’s nearly done,” Lyssa realized and her heart sank. Another bolt of lightning shattered against the barrier, only to dissipate uselessly, sparks flickering away, and her eyes widened. _That’s it._ The barrier was big, protecting the ritual more than the mage. She could get inside.

“Give me your staff,” she told the mage who nodded immediately, pushing the smooth metal staff into her hands. Lyssa let a spark of magic run through it to adjust to its attunement. “Find the foci, destroy them. And tell Vivienne to come down here, I need her.”

“At once, Inquisitor,” the young woman breathed and raced away. Lyssa did not waste any more time. With a surge of power, she focussed on the feeling of the Fade just beyond her consciousness and _reached_ , the sensation of cool, icy rain like an ocean breeze in her face as she fade-stepped forward inside the barrier. Immediately, she whirled around, gathering the stray wisps of energy and pulling them into her hand before she let them lose again towards the Venatori.

“It’s too late, Inquisitor!” the man laughed haughtily as he dispelled her fireball. “The ritual is already working. Can’t you feel it?!”

Lyssa did not let up in her attacks, sending fireballs and lightning against him, the staff slamming into the earth, but she knew he was right. She could _feel_ it, the hairs on her arms rising in the gathering power all around her.

“You cannot win. Give up now!” she called out, slowly advancing on him. The barrier around them held the rain at bay, but she could see the first cracks forming. It wouldn’t hold for much longer.

“Never!” the man spat at her, sending her staggering back with a Stone Fist. Lyssa could feel the magic around them reacting to her own magic, the anchor in her hand sputtering green sparks, the taste of copper and blood in her mouth. With a metallic sounding _zing_ , a Spirit Blade appeared in her hand, and she surged forward, not wasting any more time.

He did not even try to evade her attack.

The blade sank deep into his body, and immediately, the barrier around them broke. With bloody hands, the Venatori grabbed Lyssa’s shoulders, a flicker of pain and mad triumph in his face as he stumbled against her. Her eyes were wide as she stared into his face, the blade in her hand disappearing again.

“I never intended to survive this, you fool,” he gasped, tiny drops of blood spattering over her face as he laughed. Then the sound turned into a gurgle, and with a last cough, he dropped to his knees and fell. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Lyssa was breathing heavily as she took a step back, then two. “No!” she muttered as she saw the growing puddle of blood beneath him that seeped into the lines of the ritual, sparking more and more surges of power.

“Vivienne!” she called out, in the desperate hope that the First Enchanter had come as requested. Her eyes flew over the people gathered around the ritual, but the Enchanter was already at her side, staff ready.

“Freeze it,” Lyssa panted, “freeze the blood before it reaches the edges!”

She hadn’t even stopped talking before the ice storm hit, tiny crystals biting into her skin, the temperature dropping with a speed that drove the air out of her lungs. Quickly, she summoned a barrier around them, close enough to protect them from the cold but not hinder the magic to reach the ritual beneath them. Ice ran over the ground in pink and white lines dousing flames and forming icicles where it connected with the falling rain at the same time that Lyssa gathered the last of her strength and reached up into the sky, aiming the anchor at the forming rift to seal it.

It was over nearly as quickly as it had begun.

One second, Lyssa knew they were failing, could feel the strength and magic being ripped out of her with more and more speed towards the growing rift, the ground vibrating with unseen forces as she could barely breathe. It was as if she could hear the demons clamoring on the other side of the Veil already, trying to claw their way towards them - the next second, with a _snap_ that echoed through the air, the magic dissipated and the sky grew quiet.

For a long moment, nothing could be heard but the continuous drizzle of rain falling.

Lyssa breathed hard, her heart still racing as she looked up to the sky, unsure about what had just happened. Vivienne was at her side, grabbing her arm as she stumbled, completely drained.

“Well done,” the First Enchanter said, but Lyssa shook her head.

“That wasn’t me,” she murmured, even as the applause started. “They must have destroyed the foci that powered the ritual.” Relief and gratitude was written on the faces of the people that came towards her as she and Vivienne left the ritual and the dead Venatori behind. Vivienne gave a few sharp orders to the present mages to destroy everything connected to the ritual so it wouldn’t be copied, then they walked back up towards the main hall. Solas met them half-way.

His eyes widened as they saw Lyssa, and in an instant, he was at her side.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked in a strained voice, healing magic already lining his hands with white light.

Lyssa looked down at herself, pulling a face as she saw just how much blood there was splattered over her dress. “I’m not,” she quickly assured Solas. “That’s not my blood.” She wiped a sleeve over her face, and Solas let out a relieved breath, reaching for her as if to pull her into an embrace and only thinking better of it in the last moment. She smiled at him as he came to her side, walking so close that they were nearly touching.

“You found the foci?” she asked, and he nodded, a strained line still around his mouth.

“They were hidden in the flower pots that had been put up all around Skyhold.”

Lyssa’s eyes widened, and even Vivienne seemed surprised. They had both commented favorably on them when they had seen them, little dashes of purple and blue in the otherwise still bleak keep.

“Clever little blood mage,” the First Enchanter murmured. “I suppose we’ll have to double check such things from now on. Make sure that everything is indeed… safe.”

She gave Lyssa a once-over, and her eyes softened somewhat. “Go freshen up, my dear. You look rather ghastly, if I may say so.”

Lyssa just nodded. “You may indeed. If you hadn’t, I would have,” she said a bit dryly, and Vivienne smiled amused. “I’d rather avoid walking through the Great Hall again,” Lyssa added quietly, looking up at Solas. “Side door?”

He nodded, and Vivienne sighed, a touch of exasperation to her voice. “Very well. I’ll tell them you’re with a healer.”

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Lyssa said with relief, but the mage only waved a dismissive hand.

“Yes, yes. Off you go.”

 

Darkness was already falling when Lyssa had gotten rid of the last of the blood in her hair and on her skin and came out of her bath into her room where Solas waited. Without preamble, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

“Try not to do that again,” he murmured against her lips when they parted, his arms still firmly around her.

“Do what?” she asked with a small smile, breathless from his caress.

“Turn up covered in blood,” Solas said, his voice rough.

Lyssa laughed, her eyes softening at the emotion in his gaze. “I’m not even hurt, Solas.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, an expression she couldn’t quite decipher at first in his features. He didn’t say anything, just wiped a wet lock out of her face, his eyes wandering over her face as if to remember every line. Lyssa’s smile softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek as she realized what he thought. She remembered this look from another time, from another man. Nelos had looked at her with a similar expression after she had been hit by an arrow that had nearly killed her. It was fear of loss. Her heart clenched. That was a fear she only knew too well herself.

“I’m not hurt,” she repeated, brushing her lips over his, placing a kiss into the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, up to his ear. Between kisses, she whispered, “I can’t promise I’ll never be hurt, but whatever the future brings, I’m here now.”

Solas’ hands tightened on her body, a little shiver running through him under her caresses. “Yes,” he murmured, his hand finding its way to her neck. “Now,” he repeated. Lyssa smiled.

“Now and always if it’s up to me,” she answered, but anything else got swallowed by his kiss, her eyes fluttering close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in his embrace.

 _Now and always_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in the next work, _[Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20096386/chapters/47601163)_.


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